


One Small Dream

by Calcium_Cat



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Babybones (Undertale), Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Canon Related, Child Dream, Family Fluff, Family Shenanigans, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Not Canon Compliant, Self-Indulgent, also, but like, with character development
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28674579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calcium_Cat/pseuds/Calcium_Cat
Summary: Nightmare's life is great. He's one of the most powerful threats in the multiverse, despite the Star Sanses' (often failed) attempts to stop him. He destroys AU's on a weekly basis, feeding on their negative energy. And when he's not out causing chaos, he's at home either taking care of paperwork or taking care of his four boys. Nightmare has everything. A home. A purpose. A family.Heshouldbe happy.But he'snot.He can't be. At least, not until hisbrotherpays for what he did to Nightmare all those centuries ago. The only thing standing in the way of his revenge is Dream’s positive magic. Thanks to some help from a potion Sci made, Nightmare can finally fix that pesky little problem.Unfortunately, that problem isn’t the only thing that’s little now.
Comments: 244
Kudos: 248





	1. A Recipe for Disaster

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Xtra Small](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23074933) by [Warriorstale001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warriorstale001/pseuds/Warriorstale001). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare obtains a certain something from Sci. Now all that’s left to do is obtain certain _someone._

Sci sat slumped in his chair with his feet propped up on the cluttered desk in front of him as he looked over various reports. So much data, so little time. Which was kinda ironic, considering his AU was known as _Time_ Tale. Still, it was nothing three all-nighters and seven coffee pots (coffee mugs are for the weak) couldn’t fix. He paused his reading to chug down his eighth one despite the lukewarm temperature. Caffeine was caffeine. Setting down the empty pot, he sighed and started skimming through his notes again. But a sudden chill stopped him. He peered over the rim of his glasses at the darkest corner of the poorly lit room. 

“Hello Nightmare. You’re early,” Sci said, nonchalantly throwing the papers onto a teetering stack.

He watched as the darkness suddenly swirled and funneled like one of Sans' self-sustaining trash tornados before taking on the shape of Sans himself. Only goopier. And with several tentacles protruding from his back. This strange but not unfamiliar visitor rolled his cyan eyelight at the unphased skeleton.

“Why do you feel the need to do that?” he said in a deepy, throaty voice. 

Sci shrugged, taking off his glasses and smudging the lens with the corner of his lab coat.

“Why do you feel the need to make a dramatic entrance all the time?” 

Nightmare narrowed his eye as he marched across the room. “I’m not in the mood for pointless chit chat today, Sci. You know why I’m here, so let’s get straight to the point. Is it ready now or not?”

Sci met Nightmare’s annoyed glare with an indifferent look of his own. ”Alright, alright, don’t get your tentacles in a knot. It’s ready.” 

He got up, leaving Nightmare to loom over his desk as he sauntered over to the fridge across the room. Reaching past the mist that hissed out at him, he carefully grabbed the vial out of it’s tray. He turned around, not even so much as flinching when he saw Nightmare standing directly behind him.

“Here ya go,” he drawled, holding out the corked beaker.

Nightmare kept his hands tucked inside his pockets, directing a tentacle to take the vial instead. He held the fizzy liquid a safe distance from his face as he studied it. It was an unassuming white color he found hard to take seriously. He turned his attention back to the scientist, only to see said skeleton had already returned back to his desk chair. 

“Are you sure this will do the job? It doesn’t look like much,” Nightmare scoffed.

Sci shrugged again. “That’s because it won’t take much. A couple ounces should do the job.”

“You had better hope it does,” he said, frowning. “Dream’s magic is powerful- _almost_ as powerful as mine. Just one miscalculation on your part could screw everything up.”

The other waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, I was very precise. As soon as he drinks it, he’ll be as harmless and helpless as a baby bones.”

“Hmph. If you say so. Just remember, a potion like this is the only thing keeping your AU from being destroyed” Nightmare said casually.

Sci chuckled humorlessly. “Trust me, if anyone knows how useful I am, it’s myself.”

Nightmare continued to eye the skeleton warily. As the master of negative emotions, he could feel any ill intent radiating off a monster. But when it came to Sci, well, it was hard to judge someone who was pretty much an emotionless husk at this point. He didn’t exactly trust him, but even _he_ could admit the neutral scientist was an invaluable resource. Unfortunately, this caused the majority of his threats to fall flat- just another reason why Nightmare couldn’t stand him. 

But after taking another look at the vial, he felt his irritation subside a little. If Sci really did hold up his end of their little _business arrangement_ , then one of Nightmare’s biggest problems was about to become so much smaller. He smirked, feeling his mood improve as he imagined the soon-to-be weak and helpless Dream begging him for MERCY. Oh yes, this was all going to be worth it in the end.

Gripping the vial, he glanced back at Sci. “I’ll see myself out then.” 

Sci half-heartedly waved, not looking up from the papers he was flipping through. “Yeah, sure. Tell the boys I said ‘hi’.”

Nightmare huffed in response. Of all the monsters in the multiverse, Sci just _had to be_ the only one outside of their gang who knew about Nightmare’s bond with the four of them. All thanks to that freak accident that required the scientist’s assistance and led him to finding out. Nightmare would’ve dusted him on the spot if he wasn’t more useful to him alive.

After all, he couldn’t have everyone finding out that the leader of the Dark Sanses was more than just a _leader_ to them. How was he supposed to spread mayhem and despair if everyone thought he was a big ole’ softie underneath his tar-like goop? But Sci had proven himself valuable in more ways than one by keeping Nightmare’s little secret to himself. 

Sure, he knew it was still a risk, but so far every risk that Nightmare had taken with the scientist had paid off. And if the potion worked like Sci said it would, then this would be his biggest pay off yet. So while Nightmare was naturally a bit skeptic, he couldn’t help feeling confident his plan would succeed, especially now that he had what he needed to accomplish his goal. He chuckled darkly to himself as he slipped through an inky portal into his office.

When Nightmare emerged on the other side, he found two other skeletons were already waiting for him. Killer was busy pacing the rut in the floor between Nightmare’s desk and the fireplace, while Cross hung limply over the back of the reading chair. That is, until he spotted Nightmare coming through the portal. Cross instantly scrambled over the chair and bounded over to him, his mismatched eyelight’s zeroed in on the vial. 

Killer calmly walked over and joined him, crossing his arms. “You were quick," he said dryly.

“ _That’s_ the potion?” Cross asked, lifting a hand towards it. 

“Yes it is, Cross. Don’t touch it,” he said firmly, retracting the tendril away and holding the vial above his grabby hands. He didn’t even want to _think_ about the headache he’d have trying to bargain again with Sci for a replacement.

Cross let his arms fall but kept staring at it. “Why is there so little? That’s not even enough to suppress _my_ magic!”

Killer snorted. “How would you know? You’re not a scientist.”

“Uh, because I have two working eyelights?” retorted Cross, pulling his socket lid down.

“Sci said it will do the job,” Nightmare interjected quickly. “Since he’s the one who made it, I’m sure he knows how much Dream needs. Besides, he wouldn’t dare backstab us like that.”

Both skeletons hummed and nodded in agreement. 

“So now what?” Killer asked.

Nightmare grinned sharply and grabbed the vial from his tentacle, eyeing the liquid as he swirled it around. 

“Now it’s time for the final phase. Cross, go find Horror and Dust and tell them to get ready to go. I want to leave as soon as possible.”

“You got it!” Cross saluted, before running for the door.

“Oh, and Cross . . .” Nightmare called out, causing the monochrome skeleton to stop and face him. 

“ . . .tell them Sci said ‘hi’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like it says in the top notes, I am a fan of Warrior’s fic “Xtra Small”, where Cross is turned into a child and taken care of by the gang. When reading it, I thought “what if instead of a Star Sans turning a _Dark Sans_ into a babybones, a Dark Sans turned a _Star Sans_ into a baby bones?”
> 
> then that thought evolved into a multi chapter self-indulgent angsty fluff fic so here i am i guess
> 
> Anyway, I know this chapter is super short, so I’ll post the next one tomorrow. This chapter is just meant to get the ball rolling and establish a few characters. The _fun_ stuff happens in the next chapter.
> 
> (also i'm gonna try and do chapter summaries for this fic, keyword being "try")


	2. A Dream Come True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare sets the trap for his brother and his plan works. Until it doesn't. 
> 
> (Warning: doggos were harmed in the making of this chapter)

“Dust, on your left,” Nightmare yelled, as if he was calling out the time of day.

The hooded skeleton pivoted. He narrowed his purple-flaring eyelights at the oncoming Greater Dog and fired several pointed bones at the monster. Realising his surprise attack had been spoiled, the armoured dog tried to retreat and dodge the attack, but it was too late. The bones collided and pierced through him effortlessly, leaving only a cloud of dust where the monster had been standing. 

Dust glanced behind him at Nightmare and nodded ever so slightly. The black skeleton’s mouth quirked into a smile at the silent show of gratitude. Nightmare watched Dust walk with unnerving casualness over to Horror who was fending off doggo, before sweeping his cyan eyelight over the rest of the battle. Since his boys were handling the royal guard just fine, he stayed on the sideline and kept an eyesocket out for them. 

Occasionally, he diverted his attention from the fray to peer into the empty forest surrounding them. Nightmare expected the glowing portal to arrive at any moment now. After all, it had been at least ten minutes since they had entered this classic AU. They had already dusted every monster in the ruin and now almost all the guard dogs. Just as he had meticulously planned. It was rather cunning, actually.

First, He picked a relatively normal AU without any tricky variables to worry about. Then they made their way through the ruins and into snowdin, keeping their carnage contained so that they wouldn’t alert the rest of the AU to their presence. Otherwise, they’d have to destroy the entire thing. And as satisfying as that would be, especially for Nightmare, that wasn’t their goal for today. But to the Star Sanses, this would just look like their usual chaos, keeping them blind to the gang’s true intentions.

There was just one, small hiccup that Nightmare had unfortunately accounted for. 

Since their dusting spree was more under the radar than usual, the negative energy their destruction caused was subdued as well. So the spike of negativity that Dream usually felt by now was more like a throbbing headache to him. This meant his dimwitted twin was late to realising that this AU was falling apart monster by monster. And while Nightmare was a very patient skeleton, even _his_ frustration grew the longer their absence dragged on.

He focused his attention back to the fight. Now that Doggo’s dust was mixed in with the snow, all of his boys teamed up to take down Dogamy and Dogaressa. Four against two was hardly a fair fight, but it was a quick one. After a final blow from Killer, the pair dusted and joined their companions. Nightmare glanced around for any sign of the starry skeletons as his boys walked over to him, a little scruffed up but uninjured. They followed his example, but saw nothing but the trees and snow surrounding them. It was eerily quiet, even for Snowdin.

“What’s taking them so long?” said Cross, throwing back his fur hood. 

"They’ll come," Dust shrugged. "They always do."

“Stop being so impatient, Cross. You’ll get careless,” Killer scolded, wiping his dusty knife on his hoodie.

“ _I’m_ the careless one?” He shouted, pointing a finger at him. “ _You’re_ the one who got their coccyx beaten by Dogaressa!”

Killer swiped his blade at the accusing hand. “You could’ve helped me instead of just standing there like a useless idiot,” he growled. 

Cross doged the knife, stumbling backwards and almost bumping into Horror. Fortunately, the red-eyed skeleton saw it coming and stepped out of the way. He didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire of their brawl moved to a safe distance. Cross pulled out his hack knife, but before he could retaliate, Nightmare stepped in between them.

“Stop it, both of you. Now is not the time to get into useless fights,” he said sternly. 

They instantly lowered their weapons. Killer huffed, crossing his arms and glaring at the monochrome skeleton, while Cross hunched his shoulders and looked down at the snow. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing his arm.

Nightmare pinched his nasal ridge. “It’s okay, Cross. Just quit bickering with each other and stay sharp. We need to be prepared for when they arrive and-”

He stopped as the sound of a portal drew the attention of all five skeletons towards it.

“Ah, finally,” Nightmare smirked, his tendrils curling with anticipation.

His boys lined up on either side of him in a semicircle, facing the annoyingly-bright swirl of gold with their weapons raised. They all stood on edge (save for Dust) as the Star Sanses stepped out of their portal. The trio took their own battle stances as they noticed their opponents opposite them. Ink stood in the center, with Blue on his left and Dream on his right.

His mismatched eyelights narrowed at dark skeleton. “Really Nightmare? This is the fifth AU you’ve invaded in the past two days! Haven’t you had enough mayhem yet?”

“Hello to you to Ink,” he replied coolly.

Right as Ink was about to respond, Blue leaned forward and whispered something to the soulless skeleton. Nightmare took advantage of this distraction to glance over at Dream. His brother was holding his bow loosely and his posture was much more relaxed compared to his companions. But before Nightmare could analyze his twin more, Ink turned his attention back to him.

“So Dark Sanses, we have decided to offer you a deal. Since you’ve only done . . . _minimal_ damage to this AU so far, we’re going to let you off the hook- just this once! If you leave this AU **now** , then we promise not to fight you.”

Nightmare raised a brow bone. “And if we don't?”

“Then we’ll make you leave,” Ink said firmly, standing taller as he threatened them. How _adorable._

“I’d like to see you try,” he chuckled.

“Please, Nightmare, we don’t need to fight this time,” Dream interjected, his brow furrowed. 

The corrupted skeleton rolled his eyelight. _Of course_ Dream wouldn’t make this easy for him. The positive twin was willing enough to fight for his beloved AU’s, but he was still much more of a pacifist than the other two. He had always been spineless when it came to confrontation and avoided it any chance he could. But Nightmare wouldn’t give him that chance today.

“Why? Are you _babybones_ afraid of getting your tailbones kicked again?” mocked Killer.

“NO, WE WERE TRYING TO SHOW YOU **MERCY**!” Blue shouted back. Killer knew the degrading term would provoke the youngest Star Sans. Nightmare would have given him a proud smile if the Star Sanses weren’t watching.

Speaking of said Sanses, all three of them had taken their fighting positions. Even Dream had his weapon ready to fire now that his friends were determined to battle. As much as Dream hated fighting, he wouldn’t abandon _them_ in their time of need. Oh no, that sort of cowardly betrayal was reserved only for his own _bone and marrow_. 

Raising his sharpened tentacles, Nightmare grinned darkly. 

“Well then, why don’t we show you three what _our_ MERCY looks like.” 

His boys attacked, kicking up snow and dust as they rushed forward. The Star Sanses reacted swiftly as well and deflected the bone attacks thrown at them. The gang split up, with Horror and Dust taking on Blue, while Killer and Cross traded blows with Ink and Dream. Nightmare frowned. No, this wouldn’t do. He needed his brother all to himself for his plan to succeed. 

Nightmare waited until his boys were out of the line of fire to shoot a cloud of tarry projectiles at his brother. Dream ducked and rolled away, shooting a positive arrow at him in response. It embedded itself into Nightmare’s shoulder, burning him, but he ripped it out as if it was nothing more than a splinter. He was too pleased he captured his brother’s attention to care about the pain.

As more arrows whizzed by him, he melted into shadow to avoid them and resurfaced a couple yards behind Dream.

"Looking a little slow today, aren't we Dream?" he taunted.

His brother turned around wordlessly and shot an arrow at him, which he missed effortlessly. This was _much better_ , but they were still too close to the others. Before Dream could hurl another arrow at him, Nightmare teleported twenty feet away- farther into snowdin’s forest; farther from his brother's friends. He threw more projectiles as Dream fitted another arrow to his bow. This time, it was his twin who teleported to avoid the attack, reappearing just a few feet closer to him. Nightmare chuckled under his breath.

Dream had taken the bait.

Slowly but steadily, Nightmare led his brother into the dense trees, until they were alone at last. He wasn’t too worried about abandoning his boys to fight Ink and Blue, since he’d waited to execute this plan until he was confident they could. Now it was just him and Dream. And although his brother was powerful in his own way, Nightmare was stronger than normal from the negativity boost that destroying the AU had given him. Not to mention, the potion in his pocket was an _excellent_ motivator.

Dream fought back with equal vigor, but it wasn’t easy. He was still sore from the recent fights which had left him quite a few bruises, and his current confrontation was tiring him out fast. He was more nimble than Nightmare, but the other had a higher pain tolerance. And on top of that, so far none of Dream’s attacks had slowed Nightmare in the slightest. It frustrated and worried him. He knew his brother had the advantage here, but he was confused by how _persistent_ he was being. Dream hadn’t seen him fight this hard since . . . well . . . . _that_ fight. 

But having repeated this song and dance a hundred times already, Dream knew something about Nightmare was off. Maybe it was the way he treated his arrows like they were bugs in the wind? Or his constant attempts to trip him up and grab him with his tendrils? Or perhaps it was the odd glint in his eyelight when he looked at Dream that he found so off putting? Dream wasn’t exactly _scared_ of his brother, but he did feel a bit . . . _nervous_ about this subtle change in him.

Unfortunately, Dream was too occupied with the other’s relentless attacks to worry about it further. After barely missing a hit from his tentacles, Dream fired more arrows after them. They hit their mark, but Nightmare didn’t even flinch. Dream began to panic. While Nightmare showed no signs of fatigue, Dream felt _very_ drained from expanding so much magic while having to constantly side-stepping his brother’s. He desperately needed a break. If not, he would soon slip up, resulting in another bruise or _worse_.

Switching out his bow for his golden staff, he took a defensive pose and faced Nightmare, quickly wiping away the sweat dripping down.

“Aren’t you tired of fighting yet, Brother?” He shouted breathlessly.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” said Nightmare, throwing more shards at him as several tentacles followed behind.

Dream deflected the attacks without much struggle. However, one of the tentacles was bold enough to wrap itself around his weapon. He channeled his magic into the staff, causing the tendril's ooze to hiss and steam. It slithered back to its owner, who didn’t hide his grimace in time. Dream enhanced his positive aura around him, feeling relieved that Nightmare could still feel pain to some capacity.

“I don’t understand brother. Why did you attack this AU? You’ve already destroyed four this week,” Dream said, his countenance darkening as he thought of the lives they didn’t save. 

“And I’ll destroy this one as soon as I’m finished with you,” he growled, disappearing into his shadow.

Dream whisked around right as another wave of tarry fragments was about to hit him and blocked them. This time, Nightmare didn’t risk trying to grab him or his staff. But although the shield of magic protected him, Dream couldn’t hold it for much longer if he kept fighting like this. He had no choice now. He resorted to the only tactic he knew would get Nightmare to talk to him.

Lowering his staff, Dream held out his hand. “Nightmare, _please_ . . . we don’t have to keep fighting like this, brother.” 

As he’d hoped, Nightmare relaxed a little and rolled his eyelight. 

“ _Oh for the love of-_ Just give it up already, Dream,” he groaned.

Nightmare should have known Dream would pull the _’pwease stop being evil bwother’_ card. He only tried that pointless old speech on him when he knew he was losing. And it was obvious from his panting and sweating that his brother was reaching his limits. Nightmare couldn’t let himself get distracted when he was this close to beating him. 

“I won’t. I know you’re still in there Nightmare. You just have to fight it. I’m not giving up on you!” Dream continued stubbornly.

Nightmare curtly sighed. Ah yes, there was that self-righteous promise he always made, not knowing he’d already broken it _long_ before now. Along with his foolish idea that Nightmare, the _weak, helpless_ version of himself, was trapped under the tarry corruption. Because good little Dream couldn’t accept the monster his brother had become. Well, Nightmare didn’t need his brother’s acceptance anymore- not when he had his boys. 

“Well then, why don’t you come and get him,” he said, swiping with a tentacle at him.

Dream grunted and slammed it into the snow with surprising force. He breathed heavily, slouching his shoulders while more sweat beaded on his skull. Although Dream was getting weaker with each attack, Nightmare still couldn’t land a hit on him. He needed to lower his guard. And as much as he hated to admit it, playing along with his brother’s charade would do just that.

After a moment, Dream choked out, “if. . . if you would just stop fighting me . . . then I could help you! No more fighting, no more destroying innocent AUs, no more pain. Don’t you want that? Don’t . . . don’t you want to be happy again?” 

Nightmare bristled. He **was** happy, thank you very much. Alright, so maybe in the early days of his corrupted form, he was _less_ than content. But after years of adjusting to his new abilities, finding his purpose in spreading negativity throughout the multiverse, and putting together a rag-tag family that actually cared for _him_ \- he was now happier than he ever was prior to taking the apple. But Dream would never understand that.

“Don’t pretend you care about what _I_ want, Dream- you don’t even know what I want. You’re just saying this because it’s what _you_ want,” Nightmare hissed, inching a few steps closer.

“That’s not true, Nighty,” Dream said, wincing at his brother’s bitterness. “All I want is for you to be happy! I’ve forgiven you for all the AU’s you’ve destroyed. I know you can’t help it- the corruption _forces_ you to. This is all _its fault!_ Please Nighty, just . . . just come back home with me. We’ll figure this out. Then we can go back to how things were before.”

Nightmare glowered. “No, we **can’t**. Monsters change, Dream- _I’ve changed._ Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

Dream scowled back. _Him?_ Nightmare was the one who didn’t understand. Why couldn’t he see how much Dream still cared about him? How he lied awake every night missing him. How he was willing to do literally anything if it meant getting his brother back from this . . . this . . this _heartless monstrosity._ How even after having this conversation repeatedly and never reaching his brother in the end, he wouldn’t give it up. He couldn’t. And he was determined to keep trying.

“You’re right Nightmare, monsters do change,” Dream nodded, tightening the grip on his staff. “So why don’t _you_ change for the better? I know you can do it, brother.”

“You don’t know anything,” his twin spat, taking another step. 

“Then _tell_ me! What don’t I know?” Dream yelled, throwing his arms wide open in exasperation.

Suddenly, Nightmare shot a tentacle at him and sent Dream careening into the snow, knocking the wind out of him. He started to stand, but the tentacle coiled around his shoulders and lifted him into the air. The negative magic sunk it’s icy fangs into his bones, making him shiver as he struggled to get free. He tried concentrating on his positive aura again, but the pain made it nearly impossible.

“You don’t know when to _shut up_ ,” Nightmare said, carrying his squirming target over to him.

“Let me g-go, Nightmare!” He grunted, inwardly cursing himself for making such a stupid mistake.

Nightmare sighed. “Fine, fine if you insist.”

Dream blinked. 

Was the pain making him delerious, or had his brother actually agreed to release him?

The positive twin eyed him warily. “Uh . . . r-really?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, before turning away. 

While Nightmare got immense satisfaction out of watching Dream flail helplessly in his grasp, the scalding hot pain he felt holding him considerably diluted it. Fortunately for Nightmare, he had the solution to this pesky problem tucked safely in his jacket. He just needed to move Dream somewhere a little more _convient_ first. Stretching out his hand, he activated his magic to summon a portal to his domain.

Dream stared anxiously at the dark, foreboding magic swirling in front of them

“Um . . . why are you opening a portal? I thought you said you were going to let me go?” 

“Oh, I am,” Nightmare grinned smugly. “See you soon _dear brother~_ ” 

Dream’s sockets widened. 

“No, wait-” he yelped, but Nightmare didn’t let him finish. 

He screamed as his brother's appendage threw him at the portal that led to only stars-knew-where. Dream braced himself in the precious few seconds he had before he sailed through to the otherside. Nightmare closed it, now satisfied that his prisoner was now safely secured. He was tempted to follow after him and get the job over with, but he couldn’t leave his boys behind.

Nightmare raced over the snow and zigzagged between the trees, following the battle noise of blasters and bone attacks until he found the clearing again. He stopped short and quickly surveyed the ongoing fight. Cross and Blue were a blur of swinging blows, while Dust and Killer had Ink cornered against a tree. As for Horror, he was a little ways from the others, lying curled up on the ground. Nightmare’s breath hitched.

He wasn’t moving.

In an instant, Nightmare was at the skeleton’s side and bending over him. He grabbed and turned him on his back, causing Horror to groan and weakly cough. _He was still alive._ Nightmare heaved a sigh, releasing the tension from his shoulders. 

“Are you okay Horror? Are you wounded? Where does it hurt?” He asked, trying to stay calm as he checked for an injury. He then found it- a crack running entirely through his left tibia. Already the area around it was starting to flake dust. He would lose the bone if it wasn’t healed soon. 

Horror’s fuzzy eyelight glanced at the wound, then back up at him. 

“It’s . . . f-fine,” he wheezed.

Nightmare’s worried expression hardened. "No, it’s not."

He stood up and used his tentacles to lift the skeleton into his arms, being extra careful not to jostle the leg. Horror let out a shaky breath, his eyelight rolling into the back of his head as his sockets fluttered shut. It took every bit of Nightmare's self control to not portal back to the hideout right away. Instead, he turned to the five other skeletons still fighting each other.

“Cross, Killer, Dust- it’s time to leave. _Now!_ ” He shouted, masking his concern with the anger he felt at the Star Sans for hurting Horror.

Killer stopped and sprinted over to him while Dust blocked Ink’s attack. The black-eyed skeleton came up and held his arms out to take Horror. Nightmare gently shifted the unconscious skeleton into the other’s trust-worthy hold. Dust hurried over (now that he’d successfully knocked Ink’s brush into the forest) and joined the trio. Within seconds, another dark swirling portal formed beside them.

“Go,” said Nightmare. 

The two nodded wordlessly and stepped through the gateway. Only then did Nightmare notice that Cross was missing. He swiveled to see the youngest Dark Sans still furiously engaged with Blue.

_“Cross!”_

The skeleton hesitated a moment. Then after knocking Blue onto his back, he dashed over to Nightmare. He didn’t slow when he reached the negative guardian and ran right through the portal. Nightmare started to follow, but stopped to glance behind him in time to see Ink rush over to Blue and help his teammate to his feet. 

As much as Nightmare hated letting the Star Sanses win, they could have this AU for all he cared. He’ll come back to destroy it eventually. For now, he has more important business to attend to. He stepped through his portal, closing it behind him and walking briskly across the room.

“How is he?” He asked, his tendrils twitching back and forth.

“He’ll be alright,” said Dust. 

Nightmare didn’t respond. He quickly scanned the rest of his boys and saw that they were unharmed aside from a few scratches. They huddled around the narrow medical table Horror was lying out on and were busily helping him. Killer and Dust had their hands hoovered over his leg, expending what little healing magic they had into it, while Cross inspected him for other injuries they might have missed. 

Killer stopped and looked up to see their anxious leader still standing there. 

“He’s fine, Nightmare, don’t worry. We got this,” he asserted.

Nightmare nodded. Although Horror’s injury was more extreme than usual, his boys were used to patching each other up after a fight. They could handle healing Horror without him. 

“In that case, I’ll go pay our _guest_ a visit,” he said, melting into shadow. 

_______________________________________

Dream didn’t know what awaited him on the other side of the portal, but solid rock wasn’t something he expected to face plant into. He would have assumed he slammed head-first into a wall if his body wasn’t sprawled out. Although, the fact that he was on the floor didn’t make it hurt any less. And it hurt a **lot.** But he couldn’t think about the pain now. He had to get up- _he had to fight!_

It was easier said than done, though. His head was still spinning from the impact as he gingerly pushed himself to his knees. He groaned and cradled his head, blinking rapidly. The dizziness lessened, allowing him to see. Three walls made entirely from the same stone as the floor surrounded him. To his left was a door of rust-colored bars, and beyond it another cell identical to his. The flaming torches outside the door dimly lit up the cell. Dream scrambled to his feet, only to look and see that he was alone.

Where . . . where was Nightmare? Had he not followed after him? Why had he thrown him in here then? And where even was _here_? Dream not knowing the answers to his alarming questions let him feeling uneasy. Sure, he was used to Nightmare’s unpredictability at this point, but his behavior today had been so strange, even for him. The memory of his brother’s unusually wide grin flickered in his mind. Dream shuddered. If Nightmare’s cryptic last words meant anything, it was that he needed to leave and _fast._ Unwrapping his arms from around himself, he summoned his portal home. 

Only he didn’t. 

He _couldn’t._

Dream frowned and tried again, only to be met with the same resistance as before.

“Ugh, come on, work!” he hissed through gritted teeth. 

There was something blocking his connection. Unlike coded-based portals which needed a certain code or ‘key’ to open, his portals latched onto the positive emotions of an AU, creating a ‘bridge’. But for whatever reason, something was emotionally overpowering his magic, cutting off his access to it. Something . . . like a barricade of sheer negativity surrounding this AU, locking him from the inside- courtesy of his brother.

Dream let his magic dissipate and glanced at the cell door.

“Alright . . . guess I’ll have to try plan B,” he gulped.

His footsteps echoed ominously as he walked. He gripped the iron bars and looked out, feeling slightly better from at the increase of light. The darkness was . . . unsettling. He hadn’t hated it very much when he was young- not with Nightmare there beside him. But now things were different. And one of those things being that he slept with a nightlight. However, the eerie glow of the torches lining the hallway weren’t nearly as comforting as the stars on his bedroom ceiling.

He tried pushing the door open. Like he anticipated, it didn’t budge. Still, Dream’s panic spiked as he realised he was trapped in this creator-forsaken AU _and_ in this dingy cell. He breathed deeply, trying not to hyperventilate. His nerves calmed a little, at least enough to let him think clearly. He knew he needed to get out, but even if he did, he had no idea where the exit was or how he could leave the AU. Nightmare would be sure to find him if he didn’t.

Dream shook the thought from his head and focused on the door again. Summoning his staff, he swung at the lock. The ancient contraption was no match for his blows and once he had smashed it enough, he pushed the door again. This time it moved outward with a loud, creaky swing. Dream waited until the creepy noise stopped reverberating off the walls and looked out. There was no one here, not even guards or something. Just identical hallways on either side of him, each lined with more cells and torches. 

The guardian hesitated, clutching his staff to his chest. What should he do now? And which way was the exit? _Was_ there even an exit? What if he couldn’t-

**“Leaving so soon?”**

Dream jolted, spinning around with his staff outstretched to defend himself.

But Nightmare didn’t attack. He just stood there . . . menacingly. His eyelight glowed in the darkness, illuminating his wide grin and casting shadows on his towering tentacles. Somehow, he seemed even bigger and blacker than normal. Dream didn’t need his brother’s ability to feel a monster’s ill-intent to know he was in danger. Still, swallowing his apprehension, Dream countered his deranged brother’s smile with a forced glare of his own.

“What’s going on, Nightmare? Why did you bring me here? Where am I?”

“This is my home,” he said, his eyelight gleaming.

Nightmare chuckled darkly as Dream’s sockets widened with the fear he was trying so hard to conceal. He could easily force him to drink the potion now, but he was in no rush. There was nothing his brother could do now to stop him. What’s more, he wanted Dream to feel the same powerlessness and fear _he’d_ once felt before he met his inevitable fate.

“What? Don’t like what I’ve done with the place?” Nightmare asked, a hand placed over his wounded soul.

His twin’s expression snapped back into a glare. “S-stop playing with me and give me a straight answer! Why am I here?”

“You’re here because karma has finally caught up to you, Dream . . .” Nightmare said, taking a slow step forward, then another and another- like a lioness ready to pounce.

Dream’s staff began to shake. His instincts screamed at him to run, but he stayed rooted to the spot. Nightmare would have captured him anyway. His only option left was to fight, but he didn’t have the strength to win this unfair match. Dream couldn’t even get his voice to work anymore. He felt trapped within his own body again.

Nightmare stopped a foot from Dream, tilting his head up while still maintaining eye-contact with his trembling twin. 

He sneered down at him. “. . . and it’s _time. You. **P A I D.”**_

Two tentacles circled around Dream's body from both sides, pinning his arms to his chest and rendering his staff useless. He hung limply in Nightmare's grasp as he was lifted off the ground. The negative magic chilled him to his core, but he ignored it. Now that Nightmare had made his move, his voice came back.

“Oh . . . oh y-yeah? W-what are you gonna do?” He asked, trying to sound angry and failing.

“I’m _so_ glad you asked,” said Nightmare, pulling out the vial.

Dream’s cheekbones paled as he stared at it. “What . . . w-what is that?”

“Oh, it’s just a simple magic suppressor,” He said as he shook the liquid. 

“M-magic suppressor!? Nightmare, are you _serious?_ I can’t drink that! Who knows what it could do to me! I can’t-”

“Tch’, stop being such a babybones, Dream. It won’t hurt you. Sci said there was only enough here to suppress that stupid magic of yours. Then we can spend some real _quality time_ together. Didn’t you want that, _brother?”_

“U-um, I . . I changed my mind,” he said, starting to struggle a little. “Look, c-can’t we just talk this out and-”

Nightmare shook his head. “Sorry Dream, but you had your little “talk” already. Now, we’re going to do things _my_ way.”

He uncorked the potion and wrapped a tentacle around it. Since Dream wouldn’t willingly drink it, he directed a fourth one to wrap around his skull, placing the tip in the corner of his mouth and pulling back the malyable bone. Nightmare slowly lifted the bubbling liquid toward the gap, keeping it in his brother’s line of sight. Dream tried to jerk his head free, but the tentacle wouldn’t budge.

“N-no, no wait, Nightmare, s-stop p-please! _Don’t! S-stop!”_ He whimpered, his soul humming louder as the vial came closer and closer.

Nightmar tipped the tube.“Drink up, Dream~”

The chalky substance slipped past Dream’s teeth and his magic immediately absorbed it into his system. The ten seconds it took to empty the vial were pure _agony_ , but it was nothing compared to the shockwave of pain that followed. It felt like something was squeezing him body and soul. He shut his eyes as the constricting sensation became unbearable. He gasped for air, but was unable to breathe it in. _He was going to pass out!_

Nightmare’s grin grew as he watched the potion take effect. He could already feel his brother’s burning aura lessening. His tentacles just felt . . . warm. Almost comfortably so. That sociopathic scientist’s potion had actually worked! _Finally_ , he could make Dream pay for the pain he caused him all those years ago. He could have the catharsis he had been denied for so long. He could- 

_“Nightmare? Nightmare, are you-_ oh! Nightmare! There you are,” Cross shouted before suddenly running into the cell.

“What is it, Cross? Can’t you see I’m _busy_?” he snapped. 

The skeleton nodded hastily, fidgeting nervously with his hands. “Yeah, I know, I know . . . but it’s Horror! They couldn’t finish healing his leg and we’re out of monster candy! I’m scared he’ll dust if you don’t-”

“-Alright, Cross, _calm down._ I’m coming,” Nightmare sighed, massaging his forehead. 

Setting Dream on the ground, he walked over to Cross and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He glanced back at his motionless brother before teleporting in a spiral of shadow. A moment later the two of them were both once again in the treatment room. Horror was still passed out on the table, with Dust and Killer standing on either side of him.

“I thought I told you to leave Nightmare alone,” said Killer, giving Cross a dirty look.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Cross yelled back, following after Nightmare. “I had to do something before Horror became a pile of dust thanks to _you_.”

The older skeleton frowned. “Horror isn’t going to dust, you idiot. Besides, it’s not my fault you can’t heal.”

“That’s enough,” Nightmare said, giving them a warning glare. 

Turning his back on the bickering pair, he looked down at Horror and carefully examined the partially healed wound. He found to his great relief that Killer was right- it would probably scar, but it wouldn’t dust the skeleton. Still, Nightmare didn’t blame Cross for being concerned about Horror, even if his paranoia was unfounded. Better to heal it now rather than later.

Nightmare hovered a glowing hand over the injury. Unlike his boy’s healing magic, his was unlimited, albeit a bit unpleasant for the recipient. But despite his healing abilities being tainted by his freezing negativity, it still did the job. After a few tense seconds, the crack sealed itself, leaving only a hairline fracture in its place. As Nightmare pulled his hand away, Horror stirred and gradually opened his sockets. His eyelight wavered unsteadily before focusing on the dark skeleton over him. Nightmare smiled and gently rubbed the back of his head. 

“How do you feel?” he asked with a softness reserved only for his boys. 

“Mm . . . okay . . . I think,” Horror mumbled hazily, his eye sockets closing again as he relaxed under Nightmare’s comforting touch.

“That’s good. Still, you need to rest,” he said, then looked over at Killer. “You’re in charge of dinner for tonight.”

“ _Ughhh_ ,” Cross whined, slumping his shoulders. 

“Cross, you’re in charge of watching Horror. See to it that he rests and don’t let him in the kitchen for anything.” 

The monochrome skeleton stood up straight and gave a thumbs up. “You got it.” 

“And Dust, make a note to stock up on monster candy next time we run some errands.”

“Done,” Dust said, closing one eyesocket.

Nightmare nodded, satisfied he'd taken care of everything.

“Alright then. If you boys need me for anything else, you know where I am,” He said and teleported before any of the boys could reply.

Reappearing back in the cell doorway, Nightmare smirked and clenched his fists.

With no more foreseeable interruptions, it was time to take his revenge. What should he do first? Chain Dream up to a wall and isolate him for a day or two? Or should he take advantage of the potion by physically beating him up and then chaining him? But before he could do any of that, he needed Dream to be conscious. Nightmare looked down at his brother.

He . . .

_. . . He was gone._

Nightmare gazed at the empty room, his tendrils writhing in the air behind him.

He had only left for a minute at the most. Dream couldn’t have gotten far in that time, especially since he couldn’t teleport now. Finding him would be child’s play. In fact, Nightmare would use this little _hiccup_ to terrorize his twin even more. Oh yes . . . he would find Dream, and when he did, he would snuff out the torch lights one by one. Maybe even give the air a certain chill- the one that runs down your spine. Then, as soon as Dream had his back turned, he’d grab him by the ankles and then he’d-

“Hello."

Nightmare froze. 

That . . . that voice. That soft, high pitched voice.

He **knew** that voice. 

He heard it in every ̶d̶r̶e̶a̶m̶ nightmare and in every buried memory he wished he could forget. It sounded more real than he remembered. In fact, it sounded like it was _right behind him_. But that was . . . that was impossible. That voice was nothing more than a ghost of the past. Perhaps his stress was getting to him and he was hearing things again? Nightmare was sure he-

A small cough broke his train of thought.

"Hello? Can you hear me?”

Oh, Nightmare could hear him alright. His voice was the _only_ thing he heard. And ghost or not, it made his magic ripple throughout him on instinct, sharpening the tips of his tentacles and readying them to attack. The owner of the voice quietly gasped. He felt their fear spike and before they had a chance to run, Nightmare spun around with his tendrils poised to catch them. 

Only for all four of them to drop to the floor when he saw _him._

The skeleton was only a little bit over three feet tall, just barely reaching Nightmare’s hip. His tiny yellow fists were clenched against his chest, contrasting with the bright blue shirt Nightmare thought he’d never see again. Under the circlet on is head, two big golden eyelights in wide sockets were shaking up at him. 

Nightmare’s razor thin eyelight stared back in disbelief.

“Dr . . . Dream?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dream:** What is that?  
>  **Nightmare:** A magic suppressor.  
>  **Dream:** WHAT!? Are you trying to _kill_ me!?  
>  **Nightmare:** No, no, of course not, don’t be silly . . . I’m just going torture you, that’s all. :)  
>  **Dream:** *becomes a smol bean*  
>  **Nightmare:** . . . .  
>  **Nightmare:** Well #$%&;
> 
> As I’m sure you all expected, Nightmare’s plan has backfired dramatically (even though he doesn’t quite realise the full scope of it yet). These two chapters have more build up than these kinds of stories usually have, but I hope you guys enjoyed them nonetheless. Don't worry, I won't make you wait any longer for the small bean. ;)
> 
> Feel free to check out my tumblr if you want! https://calcium-cat.tumblr.com/


	3. A Good Lie Has A Nugget of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan blows up in Nightmare's face and now he has to deal with the consequences.

Dream groaned and curled into a tight ball.

Everything hurt. He was so tired and sore, like he had played tag all day long. A funny, yucky taste in his mouth made him feel sick. And his head really, really hurt. The only time he could remember it hurting this badly was when he fell out of their tree once. But he couldn’t remember why it was hurting now. He couldn’t remember anything. He tried thinking really hard, but it only made his head feel worse. Dream reached his hands out to Nightmare to comfort him. 

_“Niiightyyyy . . .”_

His twin didn’t answer. That was weird. And Dream couldn’t feel him beside him either- just the ground, which felt cold and hard for some reason. Dream slowly sat up and rubbed his sockets open.

“Nighty?” 

He looked all around him, but he didn’t see his brother anywhere. He saw only rock. Lots and lots of rock. Dream thought that maybe he was in a villager’s house, but those were made of wood, not rock. This must be some new place. A place that was small, and dark, and really cold (but not the nice kind of cold). And the air . . . it felt all stuffy and _wrong_. Dream shivered. He hated this new place. He wanted to go back home to their tree. He wanted Nightmare. 

Dream shakily stood up and stumbled a little. He felt really dizzy, but most of the bad pain was gone now. Only his head hurt a little. He closed his sockets and tried to remember what he was doing before he woke up and where Nightmare was, but he couldn’t. All he saw was a bright, white light. It made his head hurt so he stopped and looked outside.

All he could see was more walls made of rock. Even with the light, it still looked dark and scary. But Dream was brave! And he knew that if he was here, then Nightmare must be here too. His brother would never leave him. So holding his head high, he walked very bravely through the door and into the hall. He stood and looked both ways. More dark rooms and torches, but no brother.

“Nightmare? Nightmare, where are you?” he called out

Dream listened, but all he heard was the echo of his own voice.

He swallowed hard. Maybe . . . maybe Nightmare was asleep? Like he was a minute ago? That must be why his brother didn’t hear him. But that’s okay, because he will go and find him! In the scary darkness. Alone. B-but Dream wasn’t scared! He was just standing here still because he wasn’t sure which way to go- the right or the left? He himself was right handed, but Nightmare was left handed, so maybe he should-

**WHOOSH**

Dream jumped and twirled towards the sound. A monster he’d never seen before was standing in the small room. It sorta looked like a skeleton, but it was all black and slimy and had long, weird tail thingies on its back. Dream tilted his head to the side, but he couldn’t see it’s face. Did it know that he had been in there? Was it looking for him? Maybe if this monster knew where he was, then it knew where Nightmare was too! 

“Hello,” He greeted it politely.

The monster didn’t say “hello” back. It just stood there. Even the wiggling tail things stopped moving. Dream’s smile faltered as the monster stayed silent. Did . . . did it not hear him? Dream was sure it had. Was it too shy to talk to him? Maybe he just needed to speak louder! Dream cleared his throat with a small cough.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” 

It didn’t answer him, but the slimy tails started moving again. The ends turned pointy and the air felt even colder all of a sudden. He felt a little chill go through him and shuddered. Dream had a _very_ bad feeling about this monster. He needed to get away! Dream took a step backwards and gasped when he bumped into the metal bars behind him. His eyelights darted side to side frantically. Which way should he go!?

But right as Dream was about to run, the monster turned around. The angry face changed and looked shocked and all it’s tails fell to the ground. His sockets widened. It _was_ a skeleton! Dream thought he and Nightmare were the only skeleton monsters. Where did this one come from? And why did it only have one eye socket? Dream wasn’t sure he could trust it, even if it was a skeleton, and shrunk back as the monster stretched a hand toward him.

“Dr . . . Dream?” 

Dream stared at him, confused. “You . . . you know my name?” When the monster didn’t reply, he added, “do . . . do you know my brother too? Nightmare?”

The skeleton’s eyelight looked all fuzzy, just like Nightmare’s did when he was thinking too much. 

“Your . . . brother . . .” he said.

Dream nodded and relaxed a little. “Yes, yes he’s my brother! Do you know where he is? Can you help me find him?” 

Nightmare said nothing.

He couldn’t think of anything to say. And even if he could, his mouth felt so dry he doubted he’d be able to croak it out. Nightmare stared at the child before him, then squeezed his socket shut, hoping it would make the apparition disappear. But when he looked, Dream was still there, staring up at him with a stupid, small smile.

No, this . . . this wasn’t _actually_ Dream.

That was impossible! He couldn’t . . . there was no way what he was seeing was real. It had to be a nightmare, or a hallucination, or _something._ Nothing in the entire multiverse could be as bizarre and as crazy as this. Nightmare had to be hallucinating. He _had_ to be.

But then . . . how come this hallucination felt so **real?**

And not just in how Dream sounded and looked. No, what felt baffling real were the emotions Nightmare sensed in the young skeleton. His confusion, his fear of _him_ , his concern for his brother, his naive hope despite his growing panic. Nightmare could feel these emotions radiating from Dream as clearly as he felt his own. 

He **never** felt emotions from his hallucinations.

But if Dream wasn’t a hallucination, then . . . how? Of course, Nightmare knew it was to be the potion, obviously. But how had Sci concocted something capable of turning his immortal brother into his eight year-old self again? Nightmare pushed the question aside with the rest of his jumbled thoughts and focused instead on the small skeleton in front of him.

This Dream clearly didn’t recognize him. Which wasn’t surprising, since the _apple incident_ hasn’t occurred yet for this younger version of his brother. That . . . complicated matters. What was he even supposed to tell him? Surely explaining what happened and who he was the simplest choice? Besides, he had no reason to keep the truth from him. So Nightmare steeled himself and looked straight into his brother’s innocent, hopeful eyelights.

“Dream, your brother is- . . . your . . . your brother is-”

Nightmare stopped, hanging his head and staring hard at the cobblestone floor. 

He couldn’t do it.

He didn’t know why. It’s not like he cared how Dream would react. He didn’t care how finding out that his brother had failed to protect their tree, killed all the villagers, and then almost killed _him_ would affect Dream. Nope. He didn’t care at all. He just couldn't. . . say the words. Like something buried in his blackened core was pulling on his soul and holding him back. Nightmare frowned and sighed deeply. 

“Your brother is gone,” he said, looking up in time to see the hope die in the tiny skeleton’s eyelights.

“What . . What do you mean he's gone?” Dream asked hesitantly. “Where's Nightmare? He’s here, isn’t he?” 

“No, he’s not!” he snapped. “Nightmare is _gone_.”

Dream’s fists shook as he shouted back, “you . . . you’re lying! I don’t believe you! Nightmare IS here! I know he is! He . . he wouldn’t leave me. I’m going to find him!”

Dream ran down the corridor as fast as he could, ignoring how much the hard rock hurt his feet. He didn’t care what this scary monster who knew his name told him- it wasn’t true! Nightmare wasn’t gone. He was here! He had to be. Dream would find him. It was just like playing hide-and-seek in the woods, but in a big stone house with creepy rooms.

Nightmare blinked and realised a second too late that his brother had bolted. 

“Dream, stop! Get back here” he yelled f̶r̶a̶n̶t̶i̶c̶a̶l̶l̶y firmly.

But of course Dream didn’t stop. Grumbling under his breath, Nightmare shot a tentacle after the child and grabbed him securely around the rib cage. 

“No, Let go! Put me down, put me down! I have to find him!” he shrieked, kicking the air and pounding his tiny fists on the tendril. 

Dream’s new and noticeably _solid_ form weighed practically nothing compared to when he was an adult, and he easily carried Dream over to him despite his brother’s protests. Nightmare kept his grip on his hysterical brother and held him out at arms length. 

“If you don’t calm down right now Dream, I’ll make you,” he said sternly.

“No! Let me go!” Dream grunted, struggling to get the slimy black thing off, but it was no use. 

Cupping his hands, he screamed, “Nightmare! Brother!? BROTHER WHERE ARE YOU!? **NIGHTMAR- _MMMPH!!!”_**

“I warned you,” Nightmare said, muffeling Dream’s insufferable screaming with a tentacle. “Now be quiet or else I’ll-” 

A buzz of teleportation magic interrupted him and he turned to see Cross now standing a few feet in front of him. His hack knife was raised and ready to attack, while his red-and-white eyelights immediately fixated on Nightmare. 

“I heard shouting. Is everything okay Ni-”

“What are you doing here?” Nightmare hissed, cutting him off before he could say his name. “Why aren’t you watching Horror? I told you to stay with him.” 

“I was, I swear! But then I heard yelling and thought it might be a Star Sans attacking or something, so I came to help,” he said, lowering his weapon.

“Everything is fine. Go back to Horror and- _GYAH!”_

Nightmare jumped at the unexpected sting of pain, while his tentacle yanked itself out of Dream’s mouth and slithered itself safely behind him. 

"You bit me!?" Nightmare shouted furiously.

Dream didn’t answer him. Instead, he wiped the nasty ooze off his teeth and glanced over at the new monster. He looked like the scary skeleton holding him, but he was black _and_ white and had two eye sockets like Dream did. His super huge knife was kinda scary, but he didn’t sound as mean as the black skeleton. Dream stretched his hands out to him.

“N-no, please, don’t go! Help me, p-please! I need to find Nightmare, he’s m-my brother, I need to-”

“-You need to stop talking!” Nightmare growled, shaking a finger at him. 

Dream cowered and stopped stammering, but kept his pleading eyelights fixed on Cross.

The monochrome skeleton eyed the child then turned to Nightmare. “Wait . . . what the hel- i mean- heck is going on Nigh- 

**“-Boss.”** Nightmare corrected.

“Uh, _Boss_ , right. What’s happening and who the heck is that!?” he asked, pointing his blade at Dream. 

Nightmare sighed, running his hand over his socket and down his cheek. He had hoped none of his boys would find out about this little _problem_ before he had a chance to fix it, but that wasn’t possible now. Cross was already too suspicious of Dream to buy any lie he could come up with. 

“Cross, this is Dream. Dream, this is Cross,” said Nightmare, folding his arms.

Cross stared wide-eyed at Dream. Then at Nightmare. Then back at Dream. 

“No way! You’re joking, right? _This_ is Dream!? Why in the multiverse is he like that? I thought you said Sci-”

"I know what I said! Now would you two please calm down for two minutes and let me explain?” said Nightmare, his tendrils ready to punch a hole in the stone wall if one more word came out of either skeleton.

For the first time in five minutes, the corridor was completely silent. 

With no one screaming his name or bombarding him with questions, Nightmare could finally think straight. He glanced at the confused Cross, then at his anxious brother. He stared at the latter’s quivering eyelights and felt that strange tug on his soul once again. 

Why? Why couldn’t he just say what he wanted to say?

Nightmare inhaled slowly.

Hopefully he was still as good a story teller as Dream said he was back when they- well, _he_ was a kid.

“Alright, here’s what happened. I was traveling, far, _far_ away from here when I stopped at a village I found. I heard from the inhabitants that there was a special tree on a hill that grew magical apples. But when I arrived at the tree, I saw the villagers had attacked it. They cut it down, intending to take the fruit for themselves, but the apples were destroyed in the process and-”

“NO!” his brother blurted out defiantly. “That’s- that’s a lie! The villagers- they are nice people! They would never do that to our tree!”

“Well, you’re wrong, because that’s exactly what they did,” he snarled.

Dream flinched. “But- but, Nighty and I, we guarded it! We-”

“-You what? You would have stopped them? Fought back?” He spat, before remembering this Dream didn’t remember what really happened and forced himself to calm down.

“Well . . you tried,” he said after a pause, “but one of them hit you on the head and you fell unconscious. And it’s not like your brother could fight off a mob of villagers _all by himself_. They eventually destroyed everything. But when they saw the apples weren’t good anymore, they decided to take Nightmare instead and . . . just disappeared. They left you behind thinking you were dead, so I took you home with me.”

“But why- what about Nightmare? Where did he go? Can’t you find him? Can- Can’t you go get him?” asked Dream. 

“No. I don’t know where the villagers took him or how to find them. Your brother is gone, and that’s final,” he said.

“Nighty . . . Nighty is g-gone?” Dream repeated, his voice breaking. 

Nightmare didn’t respond.

He glanced over at Cross, his eye sockets brimming with tears. “He . . . h-he’s lying. Right? It’s . . it not t-true, is it?”

Cross averted his eyelights and studied the tip of his blade.

Dream sniffed and rubbed his tightly shut sockets. 

“No . . no he’s n-not . . he can’t b-be gone-he c-can’t be. He’s not- he’s not- he’s n-not- he . . .” Dream trailed off, his blubbering devolving into all-out bawling.

As the golden tears poured from Dream’s sockets, a wave of negative emotions poured out from his soul and rushed into Nightmare. Grief, despair, fear- all common emotions he’d felt a hundred times before from the hundreds of AU’s he’s destroyed. His magic aura latched on to them and drew it’s dark, wispy energy into his core, giving him a taste of their power. And for the first time in Nightmare’s life, it tasted bitter.

He wasn’t sure why.

This _is_ what he wanted, right? To wipe the grin off his stupid face. To break his brother, the “guardian” of positivity, down into choking, sniveling sobs. To inflict the same painful feelings that he had endured thanks to Dream. Nightmare should feel satisfied now he has achieved his goal. But as weak, vulnerable little Dream continued wailing pitifully over the supposed loss of his twin, the only thing he felt was . . . frustrated.

Cross let his blade fizzle out of existence and stepped forward. “Ni- um, Boss, shouldn’t we do something about this?”

“You’re right. Here, take him,” said Nightmare, pushing Dream into the skeleton’s chest.

“Wha- Why do I have to hold him!?” Cross cried, awkwardly supporting the trembling child in his arms. Dream clutched his white jacket and buried his wet face into the fur of his hood. Cross grimaced with disgust, but at least it muffled Dream’s crying a bit.

“Because I’m going to have a little **chat** with Sci so we can fix this,” said Nightmare.

“But- what about the plan?”

“Forget the plan! That plan is ruined now, so here’s the new one. You take Dream to your room and get him to calm down. I don’t want the others finding out about any of this yet. And don’t leave until I return. Understand?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Cross huffed.

Nightmare nodded back. He summoned his portal and left without another word, his magic collapsing behind him. Cross stood for a moment in the empty corridor and shuffled Dream more comfortably onto his shoulder (not that it made much of a difference). His sobbing sounded even louder now that he was right next to his ear canal. Cross sighed heavily.

“Guess I’m stuck babysitting again,” he mumbled. 

Since carrying a sobbing child through the castle wasn’t currently an option, he teleported straight into his messy room. It’s the farthest from the other bedrooms, so hopefully the guys wouldn’t be able to hear Dream’s crying from here. Cross carefully stepped over piles of indiscernible trash and discarded towels and plopped down on his unmade bed. Dream didn’t react to his movement at all- he just kept sobbing and hiccuping into the now damp hoodie.

Cross didn’t know what to do. He still had a hard time wrapping his head around it all.

Just a minute ago he was relaxing and watching a movie with Horror in the living room, and now he’s in his bedroom with Dream- the positive guardian and one of the gang’s most powerful enemies- literally crying in his arms like a toddler. It was just too fast and too weird for him to process. And it didn’t help that Dream’s incessant noise was grating on his nerves. He wanted him to stop, but he didn’t know the first thing about consoling a child, much less _this_ one. 

Still, he should at least try. The guys would hear him eventually if Cross couldn’t get Dream to stop crying anyway. He hesitated for a second, then moved one of his hands to Dream’s back and started stiffly patting him in what he hoped was a comforting manner. 

“Hey, um, Dream . . .it’s . . it’s alright. Just, uh, calm down, okay? Everything is fine now.”

Dream turned his head to the side and sobbed, “I _-hic-_ . . . I w-waaa _-hic-_ aaant nigh _-hic-_ ightyyyyy _-hic-_ I want- I w-wannaaa go _-hic-_ goo hoooomeee _-hic-_ ”

Cross winced. “You can’t go home, Dream. You have to stay here.”

Dream pressed his face against him again and cried even harder. 

The skeleton sighed and stopped patting him. Of course talking only made him feel worse. Maybe he should wait for Dream to get it all out of his system? He’d been heavily sobbing for a couple of minutes now, so he would run out of energy and tears soon, right? But if he didn’t, then that would increase the risk of him getting discovered. Guess it was time for his back up plan. Cross scooted over to a pillow and started to pry him off. 

“n-n-nooo _-hic-_ ooo don’t _-hic-_ d-don’t g-gooo,” Dream whined as he desperately clung to him. 

“No, no, it’s okay, Dream. I’m not going anywhere,” Cross said hastily, gently pulling his hands away

Dream was no match for Cross’s strength and relented, latching instead to the pillow as soon as he felt it under him. Cross rubbed his sore neck and stretched it. His pillow would be soaked with Dream's tears, but better it than him. Reaching over and opening his nightstand drawer, he grabbed something that he was sure would help Dream feel better (or at least stop crying). 

“Look Dream, I've got some chocolate. Do you want some?” Cross asked, holding the bar out to him. 

“‘m not-n-not- _hic_ hu- hungryy-y,”Dream shakily gasped out 

Cross unwrapped it and snapped off a small piece. “Come on, Dream, just a little? You’ll feel better if you eat some. Please?”

Dream lifted his head and wiped his sockets before opening them slowly. He squinted at the bright light and looked around. This room looked a lot less scary than the other place, but it was still different from his home. He also realised that the mean, scary skeleton was gone too. That made Dream relax a little. 

He gazed up at the nicer one beside him. The food in his hand looked strange and he didn’t feel like eating it at all. But the skeleton really wanted him to take it, and Dream didn’t want him to get upset at him if he said no. So he sat up on his knees, took the food, and started nibbling on it. It tasted . . . sweet! And kinda milky. Dream liked the taste, but he didn’t smile. He couldn’t.

“See? Don’t you feel better now?” said Cross, grinning at Dream as he broke off another chunk of chocolate.

Dream shook his head no and numbly reached for the second piece. 

Cross frowned as he watched the child chew on it. Sure, Dream was much quieter now that he was eating, but he looked ready to burst into tears at any moment now. After he finished eating it, Cross shoved him the entire chocolate bar into his hands. 

“Here, you can have the rest,” he said cheerfully.

Dream stared at it but his vision was getting blurry again. He didn’t want chocolate. He didn’t want any food. He just wanted his brother. He wanted to go back to their tree. But there was no tree or brother to go back to anymore. Dream had failed. He had failed to guard the tree. He had failed to protect brother. He’d failed Nightmare. 

“It’s _-sniff-_ it’s all- all my- m-my _-sniff-_ fault,” he wailed, the tears now steadily streaming again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t blame yourself! It’s not your fault,” said Cross, placing a hand on his shoulder in the hopes of calming him.

Dream leaned into the contact and curled into his lap, dropping the candy bar to the floor. His hunched shoulders shook as he softly cried and whimpered into Cross’s leg. He sounded like he was trying to say something, but was too choked up to get the words out. Cross lightly began rubbing his back.

He had never considered Dream as anything more than a nuisance to be fought, but as he watched him cry so miserably, he couldn’t help feeling a little sympathy for him. After all, Cross knew what it was like to lose everything. To lose your home, your family- everything just gone in an instant. And while Nightmare wasn’t _technically_ gone, to Dream he might as well be dust right now.

“Look, Dream, I . . I know you’re upset, but it’s all going to be okay, you’ll see.”

“Y-y-you-u . . . p-pr-promise-e?” Dream sniffled quietly.

Cross didn’t answer at first. He didn’t know what Nightmare had in mind for his brother, so he really shouldn’t be making any promises. But Dream’s tiny voice sounded so broken, _so desperate_ , that he finally just sighed and gave in. 

“I promise, buddy.”

__________________________

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

_Drip_

Sci boredly watched the last drops of coffee plop into the steaming liquid below. 

The monotonous sound drowned out the silence of the small break room, reminding him of the ticking of a clock. Actually, now that he thought about it, what time was it now? He didn’t keep a watch on him and the constant stream of caffeine had stopped his body from naturally telling him how late it was. Not that it really mattered anyway. He was going to stay at the lab until he’d finished going over the core’s latest readings. Maybe afterwards he’ll take a break and-

 **“SCI!”** a voice boomed as the door slammed open.

Said skeleton started to turn around, only for something to grab him around the waist. It pinned his arms to his sides and yanked him into the air. He looked down to see it was an oozing tentacle protruding from a fuming Nightmare. It squeezed him uncomfortably tight, but not so much that he couldn’t breathe properly. Sci relaxed and smiled lazily down at the skeleton. 

“Oh, hey Nightmare.”

Nightmare’s razor-thin eyelight stared at him murderously. “Who exactly did you think you were fooling?” 

“Uh . . . what are you talking abou-ACK!” he yelped as the tentacle constricted his chest.

“The _potion_ , Sci. I thought I made it clear what would happen if you backstabbed me,” said Nightmare, his tone dangerously low.

Sci struggled to breathe, but manage to gasp out,“w. . wait . . the . . . p-potion? It . . it didn’t work?”

“Oh, _it worked alright._ Dream's magic is practically gone. He's as weak and pathetic as a babybones . . . because he actually **is** one now."

The scientist blinked. “He . . he is?”

Nightmare narrowed his socket. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know this already, Sci. It’s too late for you."

“I . . can explain . .” Sci grunted.

Nightmare was _so close_ to squeezing the cure out of the scientist right then and there, but despite his boiling rage, he was still curious as to what Sci had done to his brother. After giving him a few more seconds of discomfort, Nightmare lowered the skeleton onto the tile floor before him. 

“Fine, explain it then. But don’t expect me to believe you,” he said, crossing his arms.

Sci hunched over, taking several deep breaths, then said, “fair enough. But the truth is that the potion I gave you was one hundred percent magic suppressor fluid. Dream becoming younger as a result was an unanticipated, but not implausible side effect.” 

“Not implausible? What do you mean? Did you know this would happen?” Nightmare growled.

Sci shrugged. “Honestly, anything could have happened. Magic suppressors are known for having finicky results with the average monster, and you and Dream are anything but average. _Especially_ when it comes to your magic. As outliers, I did the best I could and gave you enough potion to suppress a normal skeleton’s magic without hurting them. So there was always a possibility that it wouldn’t work or that something would go wrong. But one doesn’t know until they try. It’s why I told you that experimenting on you would have helped guarantee the result you wanted.”

“And I told _you_ that I’m not some genuine pig you can experiment on!”

Sci raised a brow bone. “But your brother is, apparently.”

“No, he isn’t!” Nightmare hissed, pressing a finger to the other's chest. “All you were supposed to do was get rid of his positive magic, and instead you’ve turned him into a child! So unless you have a potion that can fix this mess, then consider your dust as payment for your mistake.” 

He raised a sharpened tentacle to Sci’s neck, but the skeleton didn’t even glance at it as he frowned at him. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Theoretically, using a magic enhancer would reverse the effects of a magic suppressor, but given how the latter has had such a strong effect on Dream, a magic enhancer might just make matters worse.”

“So you’re saying you can’t do it?” Nightmare said, removing the tendril.

Sci shook his head. “No, I’m saying that it’s not _safe._ ”

“I don’t care if it’s safe! I don’t care what it does, so long as it works. It’s bad enough I can’t have my revenge now. I am _not_ going to put up with my brother acting like an immature child and crying because he doesn't know where I am for a minute longer!" He yelled, more so to himself than to Sci.

The skeleton adjusted his glasses. “Really? He didn’t recognize you at all?”

“No. He doesn’t remember anything. I’m sure that’s just another side effect of the potion,” he said sarcastically.

“Hmmm, interesting,” Sci mumbled, tapping his chin.

“Well, Sci? What will it be?” he asked, his tentacles writhing in annoyance. 

Sci didn’t answer right away, whether because he was still thinking or just trying to piss him off more, Nightmare wasn’t sure. He was seconds away from losing his temper again when Sci finally hummed and looked resoutley at him

“I need to see Dream in person first in order to determine the safest dosage of magic enhancer.”

Because _of course_ he did. But as much as Nightmare hated any further delay, he knew this was Sci’s way of agreeing to make the cure. So he bit his metaphorical tongue and rolled his eyelight.

“Fine,” he said, as his portal back to the hideout swirled open. “Go to your lab. Dream and I will meet you there in a moment.”

Sci said nothing and walked over to grab is coffee pot. When he turned around, Nightmare and his gateway had already disappeared. He took a sip from the scalding liquid and sighed. It fascinated Sci how Nightmare was able to do that using only emotions. Maybe after this nightmare (heh) is over, he could convince the goopy lord of darkness to let him run some tests on it.

Speaking of the skeleton . . . . 

Sci looked over at his demolished door. It laid against the wall, hanging on only by the top hinge, with a large dent in the middle that threatened to break the door entirely if only a bit more force had been applied. The handle knocked clean off and was nowhere to be seen. Sci chugged down his coffee and stepped through the chipped doorway.

“Guess that’s what I get for complaining,” he muttered.

__________________________

Nightmare emerged from the portal into Cross’s room and closed it while making sure he didn’t step onto some forgotten bag of week-old junk food. Across the room he saw Dream and Cross sitting on the bed. His brother shot up from the others lap, locked eyelights with him, then whimpered and hid behind Cross. Well . . . at least he wasn’t bawling his eye sockets out anymore.

“So? What did he say?” asked Cross.

“Sci needs to see him,” Nightmare said. Looking at his brother, he added calmly, “Come here Dream.” 

Dream tensed and didn’t move from his spot. He didn’t want to go near the scary skeleton. He might pick him up again. But not obeying might make him even more angry at him. Unsure what to do, Dream peeked up at Cross. He was nice. He wouldn’t let the mean skeleton hurt him. Dream was safe with him.

The older skeleton smiled and patted his head. “It’s okay, Dream. Go on.”

Dream looked back at the black monster. Well, if Cross said it was okay, then it must be okay. He had promised. So Dream slid off the bed and shakily stood for a moment before slowly walking over to the goopy skeleton. He stopped when he got close to him and stared at the floor, hugging his arms around himself. 

Nightmare summoned his portal, _again_ , and turned his attention to Cross.

“While we’re gone, I need you to inform the others what happened. Tell them _everything_ I told you. Wait for us in my office. We’ll be there shortly.”

“Okay Boss,” Cross nodded knowingly.

Nightmare glanced at Dream and jerked his head at the portal. “Alright, let’s go.”

Dream stared with tiny eyelights at the black, swirling hole. He wanted him to go through there!? But it was so dark and scary! Dream was brave, but he wasn’t _that_ brave. Where did it even go? Dream didn’t want to walk anywhere near it. But if he didn’t, then the scary skeleton’s slimy tails might grab him again, and he was more afraid of them than the black hole thing. 

“U-um, can I . . c-can I hold your hand?” Dream asked meekly. Dream didn’t like him, but he’d feel better if he had something to hold onto.

Nightmare shoved his fists in his pockets. “No you cannot.” 

Dream’s eyelights began to wobble and he sniffled. Nightmare mentally cursed himself and quickly sighed. 

“Here, you can hold this,” he said, floating a tentacle over to him. When he saw Dream flinch at it’s approach, he added, “just take it. It's not going to hurt you.” 

Dream hesitated, but holding the slimy tail thing was better than holding nothing. He gently pulled it to his chest and wrapped his arms around it tightly. It felt cold, but he didn’t mind. At least it wasn’t holding him like before. He gave a small smile to the skeleton for letting him hold it.

“Are you ready now?” Nightmare huffed.

Dream glanced over at Cross- who gave him a thumbs up- then back at him and nodded.

“Alright then,” he said, turning towards the portal. “Let’s get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Nightmare, this is why you don't go around forcing untested potions down your magically powerful twin brother's throat.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! It's definitly more of an angsty one, what with Dream feeling lost and grieving over his brother, and Nightmare stressed out of his mind while trying to stay in control of the situation. Sci isn't much of a help either, but at least Cross is trying. Next chapter doesn't look much better for both brothers, but it will have a slight bit more fluff to it.
> 
> Also here are some facts about the Dreamtale canon for OSD:
> 
> \- The twins were 6 when the villagers built their town near the tree.  
> \- The twins were 15 when the rift between the brothers started to grow.  
> \- The twins were 20 when the apple incident occured.  
> \- Eating the apple(s) made both twins immortal in that they no longer age and increased their magic to connect with the emotions of an entire AU instead of just one person.


	4. A Doctors Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream gets a check up while Nightmare is on the edge of having a mental breakdown.

“Wait here,” said the goopy skeleton.

Dream let go of the slimy tail and stood still. He watched the monster walk through the door and close it behind him, leaving him all alone. Dream sat down with his back against the door and pulled his knees up to his chest. He looked all around him. Unlike the other hall, this new one had grey walls and a smooth floor. It was also very bright and when he stared at the light on the ceiling, it made his eyelights hurt. 

He pulled his cape around him and closed his sockets. He wasn’t going to cry. He was okay. The skeleton was coming back for him. Dream was sure of it. He rubbed and twisted and pulled the edge of his cape with his fingers. But he got bored of doing that, and he leaned his head back. He wondered how long the monster had been gone. Dream was tired of waiting. Maybe he should go look for him and-

“Get in here Dream!” the scary skeleton suddenly yelled. 

Dream jumped and flinched away from the door. But the scary skeleton sounded mad, so he scrambled to his feet. He pushed the door open just a little, peeked his head into the room, and gasped. Like the hallway, the room looked so white and shiny. There was a bunch of stuff everywhere, like tall metal things and large boxes with blinking colors that made funny sounds. This new room smelled funny too. He didn’t like it.

He heard a coughing noise and looked in it’s direction. Across the room stood the black skeleton right beside another white one. This third skeleton had only white clothes on and something shiny in front of his sockets. He wasn’t holding any big scary knives like Cross, so maybe he was nice too. His smile made Dream feel better. He started to smile back, but stopped as the goopy monster stepped forward.

“Hurry up,” Nightmare snapped, seconds from just grabbing Dream and carrying him over himself. 

His brother nervously made his way across the room, looking everywhere but at him, until he was right in front of Sci. Nightmare didn’t notice that Dream was purposely standing farther away from him and he didn’t care. He folded his arms and let the scientist handle the introductions.

“Hello Dream, my name is Sci,” he said professionally, adjusting his glasses for a better look at the child.

Dream waved shyly. “Hi Sci. Hehe- _Hi Sci_ , that rhymes, hehe.

“It sure does,” he chuckled. 

Dream glanced at Nightmare for a second, then looked back at Sci. “Are you his brother?” he asked curiously.

Nightmare resisted rolling his eyelight at such a ridiculous idea. Of course his dimwitted l̶i̶t̶t̶l̶e brother would assume all skeletons were related. He didn’t even look anything like Sci! But then again, his past form was different in many ways from his twin. So the possibility of Sci as his brother probably wasn’t much of a stretch for Dream. 

Unfortunately, Sci didn’t have the same level of self control as him and snorted at the suggestion. 

“Heh, no, I’m not his brother. Midnight here is just a friend of mine. He asked me to do a check up on you. Your head was hit pretty badly, so we want to make sure you’re not hurt.”

Nightmare studied Dream’s reaction to his new alias, but he didn’t pay it any attention. Instead, he gazed at the floor when the “injury” was mentioned and he kicked his feet. Sci silently looked to him for an explanation of Dream’s sudden mood change, but Nightmare just shrugged.

“Alright, well, sit up here and we’ll get started,” The scientist said, scooting the piles of papers and eraser shreddings on his desk to make room.

Dream placed his hands on the edge an inch above his nose and tried to pull himself up. But while he was a skilled climber, the slippery surface was different from the rough branches he was used to, and he struggled to get a grip. Dream’s awkward flailing was getting on Nightmare’s last nerve, and after watching for a few more seconds, he’d had enough. Without hesitation, he hooked a tentacle onto Dream’s shirt collar, causing him to squeak, and dropped him onto the desk. 

Nightmare expected Dream to freak out, but all he did was cross his arms and puff out his cheeks.

“I could of done it by myself. . .”

_"I could have done it by myself!”_

_Nightmare patted his twin’s head. “Pfft, I know. I didn’t want you to fall and get hurt.”_

_“But I wasn’t gonna fall! I’m the best at climbing. I’m better than you are!” he said proudly._

_Nightmare smirked. His brother was a better climber than him. But this pinetree was also a lot taller than their Tree and Dream could hurt himself falling from this high. He was about to argue with him when Dream looked out at the sky and pointed._

_“Look, Nightmare, look,” he excitedly gasped, “I told you! You can see everything from up here!”_

_“Woah . . . you’re right,” said Nightmare as he stared at the view of their valley._

_His brother giggled. “I knew you would like it! This is waaaay more fun than your boring books.”_

_“Hey!” Nightmare exclaimed. He hooked his arm around Dream’s neck and pulled him close to noogie his skull. “You take that back!”_

_“Noooooo, Nightyyy, lemme goooo!” he whined and squirmed, trying to get free, but Nightmare was stronger._

_Dream finally went limp and laughed. “Okay Nighty, okay! I take it back, I take it back!”_

_Nightmare laughed with him and released his brother from his hold. Dream didn’t sit up and just shifted into a more comfortable position on his lap. Nightmare didn’t mind. He leaned against the tree trunk, holding onto the branch with one hand and Dream’s shoulder with the other, and looked out at the horizon again._

_“When I get bigger, I’m going to go out there and see all of it,” his brother declared. “And you will go with me, right brother?”_

_Nightmare looked away. He didn’t really want to leave their home, but Dream did. He loved exploring new places and wanted to leave their valley. But he couldn’t. Not now that villagers were living near the Tree. They had to stay and make sure it wouldn’t get hurt or have it’s fruit stolen. Their responsibility had to come first._

_Dream sat up. “Right Nightmare?_

_He didn’t answer him._

_“Um . . . . Nightmare? Are you okay? Nighty?”_

-night? Midnight?”

Nightmare blinked, and the memory faded. Turning towards the voice, he saw Sci and Dream were both looking at him. He frowned, feeling a bit uncomfortable under their gaze. 

“What? Why are you staring at me?” 

Sci’s smile quirked. “No reason.”

“Then stop stalling and get on with it,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Turning to the child, Sci clicked his pen and said, “Okay Dream, I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer me honestly and precisely.”

“I can do that!” Dream nodded.

“So tell me, how does your head feel?” he asked.

Dream thoughtfully rubbed his skull. “It hurts sorta. I- my head felt _really_ bad when I woke up. But it’s not that bad now.”

“On a scale from 1 to 10, how bad does it feel now?”

Dream tilted his head to the side. A scale? What’s that? Should he say 1? Or maybe 10? Sci told him to tell the truth, but he didn’t know which one was the right number.

“Um . . I . . I dunno,” he finally admitted.

“Does anything else hurt?” 

“No,” Dream said. 

His feet were sore and his chest hurt from when the scary- from when Midnight picked him up, but he didn’t want to say that outloud.

Sci hummed. “Interesting. Can you tell me what you remember before you woke up?”

Dream squeezed his sockets shut and concentrated, but the memory was blurry and it made his head feel fuzzy. 

“I . . . I was with Nightmare . . . I think. At our Tree. I was- I was asleep and Nightmare was reading to me. I don’t . . I can’t remember any more. It makes my head hurt.”

“What’s the point of this, Sci? None of this is helping!” yelled Midnight.

Dream jumped and his sockets flew open. He didn’t understand why Midnight got so mad. He was doing what they wanted, right?

“Actually, this information is invaluable to our situation,” Sci replied calmly and wrote something on the strange paper.

He then set the stuff down and picked up a small box with a blinking blue light on it and a black string coming out of one side. On the end of it was an even smaller thing. Sci held the thing between his fingers and pressed down. It opened just like a bird’s beak. 

“Hold out your hand,” he said.

Dream did as he was told and Sci put the beak-thing on his thumb. It didn’t hurt, but it felt strange. Dream twisted his digit this way and that, trying to figure it out, but all he did was get the black string tangled around his hand.

“What is it?” he asked Sci. 

“It’s a device that gives me fairly accurate readings of your biological functions and thaumaturgic levels,” the skeleton responded.

Dream frowned. “Tho-ma . . turg- thomoturg-tic? Is that bad?” 

“No, it just means how much magic you have. Your magic is fine, don’t worry.”

“Oh . . .” 

Sci held the box thing for another moment and then took off beak-thing off his thumb. He set them on the table and picked up a funny-looking bottle. It was all round and skinny and Dream could see right through it. The skeleton held it out under his face.

“Spit as much as you can in here,” he said.

Dream thought that was a weird thing to ask him. But if that is what Sci wanted, then Dream would do it. It was sorta hard since the bottle was so small, but he got most of his saliva in it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his glove as Sci put the bottle with the other stuff.

“There we go, you’re all done now. You were a very good patient,” said Sci and Dream smiled at the praise.

Sci pulled something from his shirt and handed it to Dream. “Here, you’ve earned this.” 

Dream held it close to his face. The small ball was pink and blue and covered in something shiny. He had no idea what it was. Maybe it was a toy? But it smelled kinda fruity, so maybe it was food? He lifted the ball up to Sci.

“What do I do with it?” he asked.

“It’s monster candy,” Sci explained. He took it from him, peeled off the shiny paper, and placed the small ball back into his palm. “There. Now you can eat it.”

Dream threw the candy behind his teeth and rolled it around in his mouth. The ball began to melt in his mouth and he smiled. It tasted sweet! Like the chocolate he ate, but different. It reminded him of the juicy berries that he and . . . and Nightmare used to pick together. 

“Do you like it?” Sci asked, confused as to why he looked sad all of a sudden. 

Dream’s smile quickly returned. “Y-yeah, I love ish.Thanf you!”

“You’re welcome. Now, sit still and don’t touch anything, okay? Midnight and I are going to talk over here for a minute,” he said, walking away, with Nightmare following on his heels. 

“So? How long will it take to create the magic enhancer?” he asked gruffly once they were far enough from Dream.

“You were right, the potion did work. A little _too well_ , actually,” Sci muttered, staring at his brother. 

Nightmare huffed. “What do you mean _too well_?” 

The scientist looked back at him. “Well, according to my readings, it not only suppressed Dream’s magic to the base level a monster needs to function, but it also suppressed his biological mass as well. Which makes sense, seeing how a monster’s mass and magic have a correlating relationship. What’s surprising is that it _also_ suppressed his mental state and his memories to that of his new biological age. I’m not a hundred percent sure why, but I have a theory it’s because-”

“I don’t have time for your theories! Just tell me how long it will take to get him back to normal,” Nightmare demanded.

“I don’t know for sure. If the magic suppressor had this great of an effect on Dream, I’ll need to be even more precise with the magic enhancer. Too much might cause his magic to increase beyond levels his body can handle and could result in it exploding into dust. But too little might make his current state unstable. And before you think I’m backing out, I’m not. All I’m saying is that I’ll need time to get the measurements right.”

“And just how much time do you need?” he sighed.

“Hmmmm, I’d say about a month or two, and that’s if the early experiments are a success,” said Sci, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Nightmare stiffened. “Two months!? I don’t- can’t you make it any faster!?”

“Not unless you want to risk dusting your brother.”

“Fine,” he groaned, running a hand over his socket. “Don’t bother making it then. I’ll just let the potion wear off on it’s own in a week.” 

Sci rubbed his neck. “Yeah . . . about that . . .”

Nightmare’s eyelight narrowed. **“Sci. . . how long will it last?”**

“It’s supposed to last a week for a normal skeleton monster. But seeing how it’s affected Dream, it could last anywhere from a few hours to a few weeks. Who knows, it might even be permanent,” he said with a shrug.

_Permanent_

Nightmare’s soul plummeted in his chest. If his cheek bones could pale, they would have instantly drained of all color. Instead, his eyelight uncharacteristically flickered out. He hunched over and gripped his skull with both hands, feeling dizzy with a panic he hadn’t experienced in a long, long time. 

“Woah, are you okay?” came Sci’s muffled voice, sounding more surprised than concerned.

Nightmare jerked his head up. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists to keep them from shaking. 

“I’m **fine** ,” he growled. 

Sci pushed his glasses up his nasal ridge, completely unphased. “If this is a problem for you, why not just hand him over to his friends? I’m sure they’d be happy to take care of him”

“Are you serious!?” He hissed. “There’s no way I’m doing that! Returning him now would make my plan a _complete_ waste of time and energy. At least keeping him with me means the Star Sanses will be less of a threat.”

Sci actually looked at him with a modicum of concern. “You’re not still going through with your original idea, are you? I mean, I know you’re the lord of negativity, but Dream is just a kid right now.”

Nightmare bristled. “Of course I’m not! You of all monsters should know that.” 

“Well, I know you’re not heartless,” Sci admitted, remembering how terrified Nightmare was when one of his boys was near dusting. “But I thought you hate Dream?” 

“I do hate Dream,” Nightmare snarled, only for his expression to subtly soften as he glanced over at his brother.

“But _that_ is **not** Dream.”

That isn’t the Dream that betrayed him. That isn’t the Dream he’s been fighting in AU after AU countless times. That isn’t the Dream that Nightmare wanted revenge on.

The little skeleton swinging his legs over the side of the desk- that’s the Dream who Nightmare remembered as the brother he once cared for. The Dream who would insist they did everything together, whether it was playing a game of hide-n-seek, or reading a “boring” book. The Dream who would ramble on for hours about a cocoon he found. The Dream who, when the villagers first settled their town, would rather stay with him at the Tree than leave Nightmare alone to go enjoy some festival. The Dream his brother used to be before everything went wrong.

The Dream who, he now realised, he couldn’t lift a single tentacle to harm.

Nightmare glared sharply back at Sci. “I need the _real_ Dream back, and if you can’t do that as soon as possible, you’ll be nothing more than a pile of dust in the next five seconds.” 

“I know, I know. I’ll start work on the potion immediately,” he said nonchalantly. “In the meantime, let me know if anything changes with Dream. He’s stable now, but if he shows any signs of his condition deteriorating or more memory loss, bring him here immediately. If it’s a headache though, just give him some monster candy and he should be fine.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” was all he muttered before heading over to Dream

Dream noticed him approaching and tensed, eyeing Nightmare warily as he stood next to him. 

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said sternly. 

“Okay. Where are we going?” asked Dream, slipping off the desk.

Nightmare raised his hand to summon his portal. “Back where we came from.”

Dream watched as the dark swirly stuff created another floating hole in the air. He took a step back. He didn’t want to go back to the bad scary place! He wanted to go home. Thinking of home made him want to cry again, but he couldn’t. It might make Midnight mad at him. Dream needed to be brave right now, but when he stared at the black hole, he all he felt was scared. 

Dream looked at Midnight and gulped. “Um, can . . . can I hold your tail again?” 

“Wh-what?” Nightmare intelligently sputtered, almost losing his hold on the portal.

He whisked around, his cheek cyan with embarrassment. “They’re not tails, they’re _tentacles!”_

“Tent-ackles?” Dream echoed.

“Yes, _tenta-cles_. Now hurry up before I grab you with one,” he said, marching towards the portal.

As Nightmare stepped through the gateway, he felt something grab the side of his hoodie. He didn’t give it any notice and kept going, pulling the now attached child along with him. He did, however, look behind him to make sure Dream got through before closing the portal. Turning away from his office desk, he faced the four skeletons standing by the fireplace, all of whom had their sockets zeroed in on his brother.

Dream stared back wide-eyed and tightened his grip. There are more skeletons? Maybe every monster outside the village is a skeleton. These new ones were also white like Sci and Cross and wore funny clothes. Dream shrunk back a little. They all looked kinda scary, but Cross had been scary too, and he was actually a nice skeleton. He hoped these new skeletons were nice too. 

“I assume Cross has explained everything?” Nightmare asked.

“Yeah, Boss,” said Killer, still scowling at Dream.

“Well, in that case . . .” Nightmare grabbed his brother’s arm with a tentacle and pulled him a few meters away from himself. “Boys, this is Dream.”

Dream smiled and waved at them like he always did when meeting new monsters, but only Cross waved back.

“Dream, this is Killer,” said Midnight, pointing at the skeleton. “He’s in charge whenever I’m not here.”

The skeleton frowned at him with his black, empty eye sockets. There was also black stuff all over his face that looked like tears running down. Maybe he was crying? But he didn’t look upset. Dream’s smile fell and he looked anywhere but at Killer’s face.

Midnight pointed to the one next to Killer. “This is Dust. You are not allowed in his room. _Ever.”_

Dust also just stared at him. Dream was glad he had both eyelights but the way they looked gave him a funny feeling. He was silently smiling at him, but it was all wrong. He _looked_ like he was happy, but Dream couldn’t feel any happiness coming from him.

“Then here’s Horror,” the goopy skeleton continued. “You are not allowed in the kitchen for any reason without his permission.”

When Dream looked at him, Horror’s one red eyelight glanced at the floor and he slumped down into his big red chair. Dream was confused. Maybe the skeleton didn’t like being looked at? Nightmare didn’t like other villagers looking at him either. But Dream couldn’t stop staring, especially at the big hole in his skull.

“And of course, you already know Cross,” he said.

Dream smiled at the familiar black and white skeleton. Cross smiled back and gave him a little wave, which Dream returned. Since all the other skeletons were scary and new, he was glad to know at least Cross was nice. He felt safe with him. 

Dream looked up at Midnight. “Are _they_ your brothers?” he asked.

Midnight made a funny face. “No, weren’t not brothers. We’re not related in any way. They work for me, so they live here.”

He then coughed into his hand. “Speaking of that, since you’re also going to be living here with us, here are the rules you are to strictly follow. First, you’re not allowed outside without one of us accompanying you. You’re free to roam the castle if you want, but you can’t go into the dun- uh, basement, and you can’t go into _my_ room. Both are completely off limits. And you are to obey anything that we tell you to do or not to do. Do you understand?”

Dream glanced at the others, then back at him, his eyelights watery and wobbling. 

“B-but, what about-”

“ _Do. You. Understand?_ ” he repeated.

Dream sniffed and rubbed a socket with the heel of his palm. “Y-yes, Midnight.”

“Good. Now go choose your new room,” Nightmare said hastily. With a tendril he pushed his brother toward the boys and added, “I want you all to show him the spare bedrooms. He can have whichever one he wants.” 

“Sure thing, Boss,” said Dust. 

Cross was already at the door and held his hand out to Dream. “Come on, let’s go check them out,” he said cheerfully. 

“Okay,” Dream said quietly. 

Clutching the corner of his cape, he sullenly walked over to the skeleton. Dream let Cross place a hand on his shoulder and guide him out into the hall. Dust followed them while Horror slowly limped after him. Killer didn’t join them and stood in the same spot as he watched them leave. Nightmare didn’t comment on it and dragged his feet behind his desk. Sitting down in the leather chair, he propped his elbows onto the wooden surface and dropped his head in his hands.

“The potion backfired then, huh?” said Killer, walking over to Nightmare and leaning against the bookcase.

Nightmare just sighed tiredly.

“Yeah, we thought so. Though, Dream turning out to be a kid was a surprise.”

“Didn’t Cross already tell you that?” He asked, lifting his skull.

Killer nodded. “Yeah, he did. Dust didn’t buy it and I had my doubts. Horror was the only one who actually believed him. But now that I’ve seen him with my own sockets, it’s . . .”

“Shocking?” Nightmare suggested.

“Hmph, more like _concerning._ He may be just a kid now, but he might remember his time here once he’s normal again. And if he does, then we’re pretty much screwed,” Killer said matter-of-factly.

“We’ll deal with that issue if and when it arises,” he sighed, rubbing circles into his temple.

Killer scowled. “Still, I don’t like it. Cross’s antics are barely tolerable as it is. Now we have to put up with Dream’s too? I don’t know what you expect us to do with him. Give him a deck of cards and call it a day?”

“All I want is for you boys to keep an eye on Dream. Tomorrow I’ll go and grab him some toys to keep him entertained,” Nightmare said with a wave of his hand.

He raised a brow bone. “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just locked him up in a room while he’s stuck like this?” 

The other glared at him, so he quickly added, “I’m not saying it has to be a cell. We can lock him in a spare bedroom and just make sure he’s fed n’ stuff.”

Nightmare shook his head. “No, no, we can’t do that. Dream hates being in one place for too long. Shutting him up for days would be . . .”

He paused when he saw the odd look Killer was giving him and cleared his throat. 

“Inconvenient.” 

Killer smirked. “Okay, whatever ya say, _Midnight,_ ” 

The dark skeleton rolled his eyelight. “Don’t you have something to do? Because if not, I can certainly think of several chores that-” 

“-Fine, I’m going,” said Killer. He walked through the doorway, only to stop and peak his head back inside the office. 

“Congratulations, by the way.” 

Nightmare squinted his socket at him. “What for?”

“On becoming a big brother,” said Killer, disappearing right as Nightmare slammed the heavy door shut with a tentacle.

Finally alone in the peace and privacy of his office, Nightmare curled his arms under him and buried his head into the dark hole he wished would swallow the rest of him up. The stress of recent events suddenly flooded every single bone in his body, making them feel so incredibly heavy. He wasn’t sure what hurt worse- the sick feeling in his soul, or the massive headache raging in his skull. Nightmare let out a long, loud groan.

_What have I done . . ._

_______________________________________

The flame flickered in the fireplace. Warm. Familiar. Calming. Nightmare preferred the cold, but even he could find comfort in the coziness of a lit hearth. The monotonous dance of the fire made it easy for him to slip into meaningless thoughts, numb his mind, and eventually doze off in his well-worn arm chair. 

But not tonight. 

Tonight, his mind was crowded with noisy, muddled thoughts, keeping him awake despite his exhaustion. Of course, Nightmare was used to staying up late to finish paperwork or an intriguing read. But he wasn’t in the mood to work (for once) and he’d long given up any hope of focusing on a book long enough to get lost in it. So he just sat there, staring listlessly at the fire, while his mind replayed the evening’s events.

Not that anything really happened. Dream had picked the first bedroom he came too- the one closest to all of their own rooms- and said he wanted to take a nap. So all the boys left him alone to sleep. The first time Nightmare walked past his room for no reason in particular, he heard Dream faintly sobbing, and when he passed it again an hour or two later, it was silent. He assumed his brother had cried until he passed out and told his boys to not disturb him until dinner. 

When they all sat down to eat, he sent Cross to go bring his brother to the table, only for him to come back and report that Dream refused to leave the room. Nightmare was fine with that. If he didn’t want to eat, then he didn’t have to. But when he slipped into Dream’s room as a shadow after dinner, he saw a half-eaten bowl of leftover soup on his nightstand, undoubtedly Horror’s doing. 

Since his brother was asleep again, Nightmare retreated to his office. He shut himself up and refused to talk to any of his boys. They always worried about him when he did that, but it wasn’t a big deal. He just needed to be some time alone. So sat in silence, letting himself drown in his thoughts, while his soul swelled a steady stream of negativity.

Wait. 

Nightmare placed a hand over his chest.

The fear and anxiety he felt . . . these weren’t _his_ emotions. 

The feelings were strong, but much more muted than he was used to. Most likely one of his boys was having a bad dream. They were so commonly occurring that Nightmare was used to sensing them immediately, but he had been so sunk in his own emotional turmoil that he hadn’t detected the negative aura at first. He sighed and instantly teleported, concentrating on the tug in his soul to guide him to its source, only to realise a second too late where he had rematerialised. 

Right in front of Dream’s door.

His hand hesitated a few inches from the handle. 

Should he go in? It's not like Nightmare cared if his brother was having a bad dream. He didn’t care if he was scared and upset. He would be fine. Besides, Nightmare didn’t owe his brother any favors. 

But . . . what if it wasn’t a bad dream that was upsetting him? What if Dream had fallen out of bed and broken something? Or had injured himself trying to climb out a window? _Perhaps the potion was causing him more ill side-effects? **Or maybe he was scared because there was a silent attacker in the room!?**_

Nightmare turned the latch and opened the door before he could stop himself.

“Dream? Is everything okay?” he whispered. 

Dream didn’t respond. 

But when Nightmare looked into the pitch black room, he couldn’t see or sense an intruder anywhere. He sighed in . . . annoyance? _Relief?_ He didn’t know which one and he didn’t care. Since there wasn’t an invader or a fire in the room, there was no reason for him to stick around. Nightmare stepped back and started to pull the door shut.

“N-no, wait, d-don’t go!” 

The door halted.

“ . . . what do you want, Dream?” he asked roughly.

A soft sniffle drifted out of the darkness.

“Please s-stay. Don’t g-go. Please,” replied the small voice. 

Nightmare pushed the door back open and glanced at the bed. Dream was laying on top of the wrinkled bedspread and propping himself up on one arm. His tiny shaking eyelights stared at him desperately from their puffy sockets, and Nightmare could see sweat droplets glistening on his skull. It looked like his original hunch was right and his brother had just awoken from an unsettling dream. 

Nightmare knew he should tell Dream he was fine and to go back to sleep. He should shut the door and head off to his own bedroom. He should . . . but then there was that strange pull at the core of his soul again. Of course, Nightmare could just ignore it. He could walk away. He was the one in control here, not some weird whim in his soul.

At least, that’s what Nightmare told himself as he scooted a chair over to Dream’s bedside.

Sitting down with his arms crossed, he shut the door with one of his tentacles. The room was completely dark without the hallway light, but Nightmare could see just fine. One of the perks of being consumed by darkness, he guessed. But he didn’t need his enhanced vision to see two glowing golden eyelights right in front of him. 

“Go to sleep,” he huffed.

Dream obediently laid his head on his pillow, but his sockets remained open.

“I don’t wanna . . .” he mumbled.

“Why not?” 

“ . . .‘m scared . . .” he whispered.

For a split second, Nightmare thought Dream was scared of him, but then he realised it was the _other_ nightmare that had him too spooked to sleep. Well, if his presence wasn’t “soothing” enough for him, he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t going to hug or comfort him and he _definitely_ wasn’t going to sing to him. But he wasn’t about to sit here by him all night either.

Nightmare sighed and said, “here, just . . . hold this.”

He lifted a tentacle out to Dream, which the child snatched the moment he noticed it. He curled his body around the appendage and nuzzled his very warm face into it like it was a teddy bear and not a oozing tendril of negative magic. Although the contact felt detached from his body, it still felt so weird for Dream to hug him- _his tentacle_ \- so affectionately.

Dream smiled at the goopy skeleton. “Thank you Midnight,” he said.

The blue eye light hovering in the dark softened just a little. “Just go to sleep now, Dream."

Dream yawned. He closed his sockets and relaxed, while his grip on the tentacle tightened just a little. The cool slime actually felt really nice against his hot face. It was also kinda squishy and was very comfortable to hug. If he tried really hard, he could even imagine he was back home, laying under their Tree, cuddling next to Nightmare. 

But doing that brought back the memory of his awful dream.

It still felt so real. He had been sitting under their Tree with his brother when dark, scary shadowed figures walked over to them. They wanted to take the apples! Dream tried to stop them, but the shadows grabbed him and he couldn’t move. Dream told them to let him go, but they didn’t listen. He looked over at Nightmare, hoping his brother got away, but all he saw was _dust_

Dream screamed.

When he suddenly woke up and saw only darkness, he thought the shadows had dusted him too. He was so scared he couldn’t move. But then the room filled with light. He looked and saw the goopy skeleton at the door and remembered. He wasn’t dust. He was alive and staying with Midnight and Cross and the other skeletons. Nightmare wasn’t dust either. The shadows, no . . . the villagers, they had just taken his brother somewhere far away.

Dream relaxed again and snuggled into his pillow. If Nightmare wasn’t dust, then that meant Dream could still find him! He didn’t know how, but one day, he’d go out and rescue his brother. One day, he’ll be big and strong and can fight the shadows away from Nightmare and they’ll be together again! Dream decided he would stay with these new skeletons until then. After all, Cross was nice, and even Midnight, who he thought was scary, wasn’t all bad.

A really bad monster wouldn’t stay beside him and let him hold his tentacle and protect him while he slept. Only nice monsters do that. So maybe Midnight just had a bad day and he was actually really nice! Dream felt a lot safer now. Midnight was here and he would protect him from the shadows that grabbed him. Just like Cross had promised. Everything . . . everything was . . . ok . . .ay . . . 

Nightmare stood up. 

_Finally._

It had probably only been a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Nightmare watched as his brother’s chest slowly rose and fell with each breath. As kids Dream had often slept in his arms, so to see him lying stretched out before him, he looked a lot farther away than an arm's length. In fact, if it weren’t for his weak grip on his tentacle, he would struggle to believe he was really there. It felt so much like a dream, especially now in the darkness. He hesitated for a moment, then slowly reached a hand toward him.

His fingers barely touched Dream’s skull. It felt so smooth and solid and . . . _cold_. Nightmare withdrew his fist while his tentacle slowly slithered out of Dream’s loosened grip. Using the now free appendage, he carefully pulled off Dream’s boots and cape and laid them on the nightstand. Curling the tendril around his brother, he lifted him up and pulled the blanket back. He tucked it over his shoulders, stayed a few more seconds to make sure he stayed asleep, and then teleported to his room. 

Nightmare collapsed onto his mattress, burying his face into the blankets.

This was fine.

He could handle this. He’s overcome greater challenges than simply babysitting his now adolescent brother. Not to mention, Sci said the potion would only take a month or two. It wasn’t ideal, but he could work with it. Meanwhile, all he had to do was make sure Dream didn’t die and or cause any trouble. That should be easy enough. Yeah. Nightmare had it all under control.

What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, my dear readers, concludes Act One! 
> 
> If Nightmare thinks it's going to get easier from here on out, boy is he in for a surprise. Like I said last chapter, this one has a few more fluffy moments in it to offset the angst. And I know a few of you wanted Dream to get his hug, and he did . . sorta? It still counts if he's doing the one hugging, right? 
> 
> Anyway, I just wanna thank you guys for all the support and feedback you've given so far. It really makes me so happy to see you guys enjoying my content. I promise more fluff, and angst, and brotherly babybones content is coming soon!  
>    
> Feel free to check out my [tumblr](https://calcium-cat.tumblr.com/) where I post OSD related art as well as other Undertale content!
> 
> (Also here's a fun fact: Dream brought Nightmare the "boring books" the villagers let him borrow since Nightmare enjoyed reading so much.)


	5. Dinner and a Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream spends some time with Horror, while Nightmare experiences conflicting emotions once again.

Dream stared up at the ceiling and watched the airplane circle above his head over . . .

. . . And over . . . 

. . . And over . . .

. . . And over . . .

He sighed.

This was _sooooo boring._

Sure, when he first started playing with the plane, it was really fun. The toy flew just like a bird and he could make it swoop around his room by moving the box stick. He even learned how to do cool tricks with it. But after watching fly for hours and hours, it wasn’t fun anymore. It was boring. _Playing all by himself was boring._ Dream sat up from his bed, shut off the plane, and carried it over to the other toys. There wasn’t any room left on his play table, so he threw it with the rest of his stuff on the floor.

Dream looked for a new toy, but he had already played with everything Midnight brought him. He was so excited at first that he tried to give the goopy skeleton a hug to thank him, but a tentacle stopped him. Midnight then left and Dream didn’t see him again until dinner time. He thought maybe he was mad at him, but Midnight explained he was just too busy to see him. He must be super busy _every_ day, because the only time Dream gets to talk to him is when they eat. Now he knows why Midnight is so grumpy. He never has any time for fun!

The only skeleton who liked to have fun was Crossy. He was busy a lot too, but sometimes he would stop working and play with him. Since Dream was bored of playing with his toys, he decided he would go and find Crossy to play with him instead! He stepped over his scattered toys and walked out of his room, remembering to shut the door behind him. Then he happily skipped down the hallway, his shoes making tapping sounds against the rock floor.

Crossy had shown him which ones were their rooms (even though he wasn’t allowed to go in them) so Dream knew exactly where to go. The rest of the castle was still kind of confusing though. It was just so big, and the rooms and hallways and stairs all looked the same. Dream almost got lost when he went exploring by himself. Now he doesn’t go anywhere past the bedrooms or the rooms where they eat and watch TV, unless he and Crossy are playing hide-and-seek. 

Hey, that was a good idea! He should ask him to play hide-and-seek together. Dream was the best at that game.  
Once He spotted Crossy’s room, he hurried down the hall and loudly knocked on the door.

“Crossy! Crossy, it’s me! Can you come play with me?” he asked.

But nobody answered him. 

Dream peeked through the keyhole, but the light was off and he couldn’t see Crossy inside. 

He looked ahead down the hall. Maybe Crossy was in the TV room? Dream sprinted off to go check. He ran so fast that he didn’t look where he was going and when he raced around the corner, he bumped right into someone and tumbled backwards onto the floor. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, pipsqueak,” snapped Killer’s voice.

Dream rubbed his head and looked up at him. “Mphmm . . . sorry Killer . . .”

“You should be. And stop running like an idiot,” he said and started to walk past him. 

Dream scrambled to his feet. “Wait, wait don’t go!”

Killer stopped and scowled. “What do you want?”

Dream ignored his mean tone and asked, “Do you know where Crossy is? I wanna play with him.” 

“He’s in the training room.”

Dream’s smile fell. “Oh . . . when’s he gonna be done?”

“Probably a few hours at least,” Killer huffed.

“Ughhh, that’s too long!” he whined.

The other shrugged. “Not my problem.”

“Can I go ask him-”

“-No you can’t Dream. You know the rule,” Killer said, pointing a finger at him. “And if you go anywhere near that room, you’re gonna be in big trouble.”

Dream frowned at the floor and mumbled, “it’s a stupid rule . . .”

“Rules exist for a reason,” he argued back.

Dream dropped his pout and looked up at him. “Will you play hide-and-seek with me? Pleaseeee Killer?” he begged.

“Yeah, I’ll pass. Go annoy someone else if you’re bored,” he said walking away.

He watched Killer disappear around the corner and half-heartedly kicked the wall. It wasn’t fair. Dream wasn’t gonna do anything bad. He just wanted to ask Crossy to play. But Killer was a meanie and now he couldn’t do that. Dream didn’t know why Killer was so mean to him. He wasn’t grumpy all the time like Nightmare, but whenever he talked to him or asked to play with him, Killer always got angry and said he didn’t want to. But if Killer wouldn’t play with him, maybe the other skeletons would? 

Dream continued walking to the TV room to see if any of them were in there. He stood in the doorway and peeked his head inside. He saw Dust sitting on the big couch, but the TV was off and his sockets were closed. Dream tip-toed over to the skeleton and climbed on to the cushion beside him and stared up at Dust. He looked like was asleep. Dream leaned forward and tugged on his hoodie sleeve.

“Dust? Dust, are you sleeping?” he asked in a not-so-quiet-whisper.

The skeleton didn’t move, but Dream was determined and carefully crawled into Dust’s lap.

He reached up and pushed on his face. “Duuuussst! Wake up, Dust!”

The skeleton’s browbones furrowed and he groaned. After a moment, one socket popped open and the red and blue eyelight stared down at him. It was less scary looking with his cheeks all squished up, but the smile was smaller than it was a minute ago. 

“Uh, kid. What’re ya doin’?” he asked, removing Dream’s hands from his face.

“I wanna play hide-and-seek, but Crossy is busy and I can’t go in and Killer won’t play with me,” he explained. “But you’re awake now, so can you play with me? Please, Dust?”

Dust closed his socket again and leaned his head on his hand. “Nah,” he yawned. 

“Not even for a little bit?” 

“Nope.”

“Oh, okay . . .” he sighed. “Do you- do you know where Horror is? Maybe he can play with me.”

“Kitchen,” Dust answered simply.

“Okay, thanks Dust,” Dream said, scooting off his lap.

He skipped across the room and to the kitchen door. He opened it to see Dust was right- Horror was standing over by a long table with his back to him. Dream knew Midnight said he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen, but if Horror was in already here, then it was okay. Still, he walked as quietly as he could over the smoothe tiles until he stood a few feet behind the hunched over skeleton.

“Hey Horror!”

Horror tensed and turned around, but he saw it was just Dream. This was . . . unexpected. Dream never came in here. He was always in his room or somewhere with Cross. Was Dream hungry? Did he want a snack? Could he give him a snack? Would Nightmare get mad? Horror stared awkwardly at the child smiling up at him.

“Uh . . . hey?”

Dream shuffled his feet. “Can you play hide-and-seek with me? Nobody else will play.”

“Sorry . . . I can’t play . . . I’m cooking dinner,” He said and quickly went back to cutting onions.

“What’s that?” Dream asked.

Horror looked down in surprise to see the tiny skeleton right beside him, standing on his toes and peering over the edge of the counter. He was so confused. He told Dream he couldn't play . . . so why was he still here? Wasn’t he . . . scared of him? But Dream didn’t seem scared as he gazed up at him with his big, curious eyelights. 

“It’s onion . . . for the soup . . .” he finally answered. 

“I really like soup. Can I help you make it? Please? Pleaseee?” asked Dream as he jumped up and down. 

Horror looked at his knife, then back at the hopeful child. “Um . . . I guess you can help . . .”

Dream’s eyelights dilate as he cheers, “Yay! Thank you, Horror!”

Wiping his hands on his apron, Horror tied a large towel around Dream’s neck like a bib. He picked him up under the arms like he was made of glass and set him gently on the counter right next to the stove. He walked over to the fridge, keeping his good socket on the child swinging his legs, and grabbed the carrots, potatoes, and radishes. After placing them beside the cutting board, he started scooping the onion into a bowl. 

“Woah! Where did all that food come from?” Dream asked, poking a carrot that rolled near him.

“The . . . fridge?” 

“What’s a fridge?”

“It’s . . . where we keep food. It keeps it fresh,” said Horror as he handed the bowl to Dream.

“Ooooh, so it’s like a cellar!” said Dream, taking the dish and holding up. “Um . . . what do I do with this?”

Horror stopped chopping a potato and pointed at the pot. “Pour it in there. . .” he instructed.

Dream did as he was told and gave the bowl back. He stared down at the stove and pointed. “What is that?”

“The oven . . . don’t touch it,” Horror warned, sliding potato chunks into the dish. 

“An oven? I haven’t seen an oven like this one before. It’s funny looking. Where’s the fire? And the chimney?”

“ . . . It’s an electric stove . . .”

“Elect-tric?”

Horror nodded and handed the bowl.

Dream took it and dumped the diced vegetable into the soup, splattering some of the broth in the process. 

“See! I’m really good at cooking!” He said, giving him the empty dish. 

Horror sliced the carrots while Dream continued talking.

“I cooked all by myself one time and made a blueberry pie for me and Nightmare. Then I went outside to play in the rain and forgot all about the pie. I came back but my pie was all burnt and black and yucky. I didn’t wanna eat it. But Nightmare told me I should cause I used Mrs. Hoggs stuff and her oven. He said it was rude to not eat the pie. I did eat it, but I gave Nightmare the crust and just ate the blueberries. I ate too much of it and it made my tummy hurt. I laid down with Nighty and he rubbed my back and read to me so that I would feel better and . . . and . . .”

Horror looked up as Dream faltered off. His wobbling eyelights were looking sadly at the floor. Should he . . . say something? He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t good with words. But he didn’t want Dream to start crying again. He placed the carrots in the bowl and handed it to him, hoping the distraction would help. Dream grabbed it and just held it. Horror tried to think of something that would cheer him up. 

“I . . . I think we have . . . blueberries. Do you . . . want to try again?” he offered.

Dream looked up at him. “Huh?”

“To make a pie . . .”

“I can make a pie?” he gasped excitedly.

Horror nodded.

“Yipee!” he yelled, throwing his hands up in his enthusiasm and tossing the carrots inside into the air.

Horror stared at the mess around them and sighed, placing the knife down on the counter.

“I’m - I’m sorry Horror,” Dream stuttered. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to spill it! I can clean-” 

“No . . . it’s fine . . . I’ll clean,” he said, taking the bowl from him.

Horror brushed the pieces of carrot off the counter and into the dish, then squatted to the floor to pick up the rest. It took him a minute, but he managed to retrieve most of the slices. It wasn’t a big deal, but he didn’t like to waste food, so he set the bowl and dirty carrots aside for Dust’s pet rat to eat. He opened the fridge and grabbed another carrot stick.

As he walked back, Dream looked up at him guiltily and picked at his gloves. “I’m sorry . . .”

“It’s okay . . . accidents happen,” Horror shrugged, picking up the knife.

“Do you- do you not want me to help you cook anymore?” he asked.

The knife sliced through the carrot with ease. “No . . . you can stay . . .”

Dream sat up straight, his eyelight’s brightening. “Really? I can stay and help you?”

Horror nodded and handed the child the ladle. “Here . . . you can stir.”

“Okay, I can do that!” he said, sticking the spoon in the soup and sloshing it around excitedly.

“Slower . . .” said Horor as he grabbed his tiny hands and guided them in a smooth, circular motion around the pot. “See . . . just like that . . .”

Dream nodded, “Yeah, yeah I see. Let me do it- I can do it now!”

Horror went back to cutting the carrot, and once he added the slices to the pot, he got to work on the radishes. Dream watched him with a scrunched up face and began rambling on about the vegetable. He said he found a patch once and tried eating them, but hated their bitter, strong taste. (Horror quickly assured him they wouldn’t taste ‘yucky’ in the soup.) Dream continued to talk, now about berries he’d picked with his brother, and how he liked sweet strawberries and blueberries and Nightmare prefered tart blackberries and raspberries (the raspberry tea they kept for Nightmare made more sense now.)

As Dream rambled from topic to topic, Horror found himself enjoying listening to him. The constant chatter was a pleasant background noise to him, similar to the classical music he liked to zone out too. He didn’t offer much besides an affirmative hum of nod of the head, but Dream didn’t seem to care. He must have liked talking as much as Horror liked listening. And to be honest, it was kinda nice to have company while he cooked for once. 

Sure, the others occasionally hung out with him, but often the conversation would become . . . _chaotic_ and he would have to push them all out of the kitchen. But although Dream was energetic and fidgeted a lot, he was much calmer compared to the others. All he did was talk about stuff like blowing dandelions or playing in a river with Nightmare.

As Dream currently ranted about getting his gloves all sticky with sap when he tried climbing a pine tree, Horror threw the last few pieces of radishes into the pot. He let Dream stir the now boiling liquid a little more before grabbing a spoon. Dipping it in the broth, he blew on it and then sipped it.

“Mmmm . . . more salt . . .” he hummed, adding a few shakes to the pot.

He tired the soup again and smiled. “Perfect . . .”

“Oh! Oh! Let me taste! I wanna taste it!” Dream pipped up.

Horror filled the spoon a third time, avoiding any of the uncooked radishes, and blew on it. He held it out to Dream, who leaned forward and bit down on the utensil. 

His golden eyelights expanded. “Mmmmm! That tastes really good! Can we eat it now?”

Horror put the lid on the pot and shook his head. “Not yet . . . in an hour . . .”

“So does this mean you can play with me now?” Dream asked.

Horror didn’t feel like playing whatever game Dream had in mind . . . but he didn’t want to make him sad again either. Especially when no one else was willing to play with him. Horror searchd his muddled mind for a solution and smiled softly when he found it.

“Actually . . . how about we make that pie . . . for dessert tonight?” he suggested.

Dream’s eyelights morphed into a̶d̶o̶r̶a̶b̶l̶e stars as he grinned. “REALLY!?”

“Mmmhmm” he nodded as Dream cheered.

Horror walked to the pantry, trying not to smile at the child’s excitement. But when he returned with the ingredients for the pie crust, he couldn’t help smiling _slightly_ wider than normal. As he placed the stuff on the breakfast bar, he heard Dream plop down onto the floor behind him. Horror fetched him a chair from the dining room and Dream climbed onto it, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he giggled. 

After he measured out the wet ingredients, he handed the bowl and whisk to Dream. “Here . . . can you stir that?”

“Yep!” Dream said, popping the p. “I’m really good at stirring now!”

“You sure are . . .” he chuckled, watching some of the batter splash onto the counter.

Meanwhile, Horror folded in the various dry ingredients together, glancing from time to time at Dream. Once he finished, he poured what batter was left in Dream’s bowl into his own and carefully mixed them together with a spatula. Once the mixture was thick enough, he dusted the counter top with flour and scooped the dough out onto it.

“Take your gloves off . . .” he said and held out his hand.

Dream slid his tiny gloves off to reveal even tinier hands. Since he wore his gloves all the time, Horror figured they were probably clean enough to touch the food. 

He scooted the flour over to Dream. “Put this on your hands . . .” 

Dream stuck his hands into the bowl, creating a cloud of dust in his face. 

“This feels soft,” he coughed, lifting his hands to show them covered in the fine powder.

“Now . . . watch me . . .” said Horror, turning to the dough.

He started rolling it this way and that, working out the lumps and working in the air. He watched Dream from the corner of his good socket and saw he was quietly and completely focused on the mesmerizing motions of his hands. It was weird to think he was teaching _Dream_ of all skeletons how to bake a pie, but seeing the childish wonder in his face made it feel less weird. It just felt . . . nice. 

After kneading for another moment, Horror set the dough in front of him. “Your turn . . .”

Dream shoved his fists into the ball of dough, sending a puff of flour dust everywhere, but Horror didn’t mind. He watched as Dream determinedly rolled and squished and pounded the dough. He wasn’t doing it like he showed him, but from his shimmering eyelights he could tell Dream was having fun. Horror let him play with it a minute more, then took it back and set his rolling pin on the dough. Directing Dream’s hands to hook around either side of the wooden tool, he placed his hands around the child’s and started to roll the pin gently across the dough. 

“Roll it back and forth . . . back and forth . . .” 

“Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth . . .” Dream chanted back.

Horror let go after a second so Dream could roll it on his own. The dough resisted the admittedly weak rolling done by Dream, but that didn’t deter the child. He kept trying and eventually put enough pressure on the pin to make the dough flatten a little bit. Horror smiled at his progress. He noticed Dream’s perseverance and stubbornness to succeed made him a good learner. Maybe . . . he could teach him how to cook some more? At least while he’s stuck here with them. 

Dream stopped rolling and wiped his forehead, smearing flour and dough all over it. 

“Did I do it?” he asked, beaming up at him. 

“Mm hm,” he hummed, wiping his dirtied face with the edge of his apron. Dream grimaced at the abrasive rubbing, but when Horror finished, the smile bounced back onto his face.

He held the rolling pin out to him. “Now it’s your turn!”

Horror took it from him and scooted the dough over. He started rolling out the kinks Dream couldn’t get out and flattened it thin enough to fit inside the pie tin. All the while he felt Dream watching him intensely. Horror expected him to start talking about whatever topic came into his head at that moment, but he stayed silent. He glanced down to see Dream staring thoughtfully into the distance. Horror shrugged his behavior off and set aside the rolling pin. He sliced the dough into two halves- one for the pan, and on for the topping. 

“Horror . . . can I ask you something?” Dream suddenly asked somberly.

He stopped and stared at him. “Uh sure . . . go ahead. . .” 

Dream paused, then asked in the quiet, “How did you get that hole in your head?”

Horror . . . didn’t know what to say.

He had expected the question to come tumbling out of Dream’s mouth the first moment he spoke to him. Ever since then it’s just been a waiting game to see how long it would take him to ask. Apparently he had finally worked up enough courage (or curiosity). Horror didn’t know if normal Dream knew the story or not, but it was obvious this child version of him was clueless. He pushed back the fuzzy, unwelcome memories as he thought up the most kid-friendly explanation to give him.

“It . . . happened a long . . . long time ago. Someone . . . I thought was my friend . . . they hurt me . . . and I got this,” he said, scratching at the cracks.

“What? But that’s so mean!” Dream exclaimed, clenching his fists. “Friends don’t hurt other friends!”

“It’s okay . . . it doesn’t matter now . . .” he shrugged.

Dream looked up, his face changing from anger to worry. “Does it still hurt?”

Horror smiled. “No . . . it’s fine. Don’t worry.”

Dream glanced down at the floor with a frown. Horror took his silence to mean he was processing the information and turned back to his work. He grabbed the pie tin, greased it, and laid the dough inside. He then walked over to the fridge and placed it on the top shelf to cool and set. While he stood there, he took the blueberries and the butter out as well. He was about to turn around when he felt someone grabbing him from behind. He jolted and saw it was Dream hugging him as far as his little arms could reach.

“Uh . . . Dream?” 

Dream leaned his head into his shirt, muffeling his voice as he spoke. “You’re my friend Horror and I’m not ever gonna hurt you. I promise.”

This was . . . kinda awkward.

But at the same time, his promise was so innocent and heartfelt, that Horror couldn’t help feeling a _little_ touched. It didn’t help when Dream tilted his head up to look at him with those big, bright eyelights of his. Eyelights which used to look at him with hostility, but now stared at him with open friendliness.

Horror patted his head and smiled. “Heh . . . uh . . . thanks Dream . . .”

Dream giggled at the touch and gave him one last squeeze before he let go. 

He looked at his hand and gasped, “Oh yay, you got the blueberries! Can I have some? Please, please?”

Horror latched on to the distraction and dropped a handful of fruit into his cupped palms. While Dream was busy with his snack, Horror grabbed the chair and pulled it over to the stove. Taking a pot from the cabinet, he poured the sugar, water, and rest of the blueberries into it and turned the heat on. Dream climbed onto the chair with empty, but sticky-with-blueberry-juice hands. Horror wiped the remaining dough and fruit stains off with his apron and handed him a clean ladle.

Dream began sloshing the berries around, repetitively singing “Stir, stir, stir, stir!”

Horror left Dream in charge of the blueberries while he went back to the dough left on the counter. He carefully began slicing them into thin strips to be layered across the pie. As he worked, Dream started rambling to himself again. This time it was about colors and how he really liked blues and yellows and greens, but Nightmare liked purples and reds and white better. Horror listened quietly to him talk about his brother, not aware of the smile on his face until it fell when Dream randomly paused.

After a beat of silence, he heard him ask, “Hey Horror, am I bothering you?”

“How . . . are you bothering me?” he asked over his shoulder.

Dream shrugged and stared sullenly at the pot. “I don’t know . . . Killer says I talk too much and it bothers him. . .”

“It . . . it doesn’t bother me . . .”

Dream perked up. “You mean it?”

“Yeah . . .” Horror said, walking over and taking the pie crust out of the fridge.

He walked over to the stove and smiled at Dream and turned off the heat. Grabbing the pot with his free hand, he headed back to the breakfast bar, while Dream scooted his makeshift stool after him. He climbed back on and watched Horror pour the steaming fruity filling into the pin tin. 

“You know, you are just like Nightmare,” he observed, sucking on the ladle. “I don’t bother him when I talk either. He doesn’t say a lot, but he likes to listen. He's very good at that. He’s the best listener ever!” 

Horror chuckled. 

Dream had revealed interesting information about his twin in their conversation, but he already knew that Nightmare was a good listener. In fact, he’d lost count of the time Nightmare let them get something off their chest to him, or came rushing into their rooms in the middle of the night to comfort and listen to them explain the bad dream they had. He never said much back, but he didn’t need to. His presence alone was calming, and they all knew he cared, even if he didn’t directly say it often. It seems like that part of him wasn’t lost to his corruption.

Horror showed Dream how to layer the pie by putting down the first set of dough strips himself. He then helped the child arrange the second layer. The pattern was a little uneven and far from picturesque, but Dream was proud of his work, so Horror let it alone. He waited for Dream to hop off his chair before the too of them carried the pie toward the oven. After placing it inside, he shut the door and twisted the dial on their apple timer. 

“What is that?” he asked.

Horror set the device on the counter. “it’s an alarm . . . it goes off when the pie is done . .” 

“Oh! So we don’t forget about it and it won’t get burnt!” Dream nodded.

Horror nodded back, when all of a sudden Dream barreled into him with another hug.

“Thank you, Rory! Cooking with you is really, really fun. I wanna cook with you all the time! Can I? Can I?” he asked, squeezing him tighter. 

Horror’s red eyelight swelled as he smiled. “Yeah . . . you can be my little chef . . .” 

“WOW, REALLY? THANK YOU, THANK YOU! I WILL BE THE BEST LITTLE CHEF! I PROMISE!” Dream shouted, grinning so wide it made _his_ cheeks hurt just looking at it. 

His increased volume also made Horror’s ear canals ring a little, but he ignored it and just chuckled.

Dream pulled away and clasped his hands. “What are we gonna cook next?”

“Actually . . . it’s time to eat . . .” Horror said, turning off the burner under the soup pot. “I need to set the table . . .”

“Oh! Oh, let me! I can do it!” Dream squealed.

Horror shook his head and handed Dream his gloves. “Go wash your hands . . . you can help me later . . . with the pie . . .”

“Okay! I’ll be right back!” He said and scurried out of the room. 

Horror chuckled to himself and pulled several bowls out of the cabinet. He walked into the dinning room to see Dust was already sitting at the table with his head resting on his arms. After arranging the bowls, he went back and fetched the soup. As soon as he set the pot down and started serving it up, Dust raised his head and opened a socket.

“Smells good,” he said with a yawn.

“Dream helped make it . . .” Horror commented. 

Dust lifted his socket lids a little. “He did?”

“Who did what?” Cross asked, walking into the room with Killer right behind him.

“Dream cooked with Horror,” answered Dust

Killer crossed his arms and sat in his seat. “In that case I’m not having any.”

“Just cause Dream helped cook it doesn’t make it poisonous!” Cross scolded, sitting in the chair beside him.

“Well then you can have the first bowl.”

“I will!”

“Be my guest.”

“I did most of it . . .” Horror mumbled.

Cross waved his arm at him. “See? The soup is just fine. Besides, if it’s nothing like you’re cooking, then I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Are you saying a fu-”

“Language,” Dust tskd.

Killer glowered at him. “Ugh . . . a _freaking_ child can cook better than me?”

“I’m saying anyone can cook better than you."

“At least I can actually _cook_."

Cross picked up his spoon and smacked Killer on the side of his skull with it.

“Ow- hey!” he yelled, rubbing the spot. 

He grabbed his spoon and whacked him back, but Cross blocked the utensil with his own. 

The both started fighting with each other, swiping and stabbing as if the spoons were mini versions of their much sharper weapons. Dust ignored them and started eating his soup while Horror sat down to do the same. Their rambunctious companions continued their battle, both sides getting more and more heated with each strike. Cross went in for the killing blow, but Killer reacted faster and knocked the spoon from his hand. All four skeletons watched the silverware whiz across the table and toward the doorway just as Nightmare walked through it.

The black skeleton caught the utensil between two phalanges without so much as blinking. 

“What did I say about using weapons in here?” he said tiredly.

“Technically, that’s a spoon, not a knife,” Cross pointed out. 

Nightmare sat down at the head of the table and handed the spoon back to him. “Then stop throwing it like one, or I’m going to ban the silverware as well,” he said, glaring at the two of them.

Killer swirled the veggies around in his bowl. “I’m not the one who started it,” he mumbled. 

“Yeah, well, _I’m_ not the one who threw the spoon!” Cross said, stuffing a spoonful in his mouth.

Nightmare shook his head. “I swear, you both are more immature at times than my own-”

“I’m back! I’m all clean and- oh! It’s time to eat now?” Dream yelled as he bounded into the room.

“Yes. Sit down before it gets cold,” Nightmare said, turning to his soup.

He watched from the corner of his socket as Dream took the seat beside his and slurped up his meal. 

“Mmmm, thish isss sooo good!” He said with his mouth full. Dream then looked up at him excitedly and added, “Do you like it, Midnight?” 

Nightmare held his spoon in midair. “Um . . . yes? Why do you ask?”

“I made it!” his brother declared proudly.

He furrowed his brow at Horror, “Oh, really?” 

“He stirred the soup . . ." he said.

“Yeah! I’m the best at stirring!” Dream said proudly.

Nightmare relaxed and took a bite of his dinner. “Well, if that’s all you did.” 

Sure, he didn’t like the idea of Dream in the kitchen. Too many things could go wrong and the last time his brother tried cooking something it went up in flames. But if Horror was supervising him and only giving him easy, hazardless tasks, then he could let it slide. After all, it would keep Dream from getting into trouble elsewhere.

“I helped put the veggies in too!” said his brother, disturbing his thoughts. “I did spill the carrots, but it was an accident. Oh! And I made a blueberry pie! Rory showed me how to do it right so I wouldn’t mess up this time.”

Nightmare’s socket widened at the mention of a blueberry pie while the rest of the table froze and stared at Dream.

Except for Killer, who was busy choking at the moment.

“Rory? You mean Horror?” Dust asked the child next to him.

Dream nodded and innocently took another bite of soup.

“So, you gotta nickname too, huh?” Cross teased, poking Horror with his spoon. 

The skeleton ignored him and picked at his meal, but Nightmare could sense his annoyance.

“I’m his little chef!” Dream said, flinging a potato piece in his excitement.

“His-s . . h-his l-little chef?” Killer chortled once he caught his breath.

Horror’s cheeks flushed just a little. “He was . . . helping me cook . . . ”

“Yeah! I’m gonna help Rory cook all the time,” Dream added, causing Killer and Cross to snicker. 

“ . . . I need to check the pie . . .” Horror said and stood up from his chair.

“I’ll help!” Dream shouted and hurried after him before Nightmare could tell him to come back and finish his soup.

So he sighed and ate the rest of his, while the remaining boys continued to laugh at the silly nicknames. Nightmare didn’t laugh. Sure, it _was_ silly, but if Dream liked someone he would call them by a nickname of their name. As kids, that only someone was him, but it seemed that now Dream was warming up to his boys, they were getting one too. Nightmare could care less what Dream called them, but he didn’t want his brother to start calling ‘Midnight’ _Nighty_. In fact, he rather liked Dream calling him by his new alias. It kept all those unwanted feelings in check. 

“We got the pie!” Dream announced, coming back from the kitchen with Horror behind him.

Horror cut and handed his brother a large slice, which he immediately dug into, dripping berry juice all over his face. Dust, Cross, and even Killer each accepted a piece of the pie, although Killer did wait for Cross to have a bite first. But when the monochrome skeleton didn’t collapse from food poisoning, he dug into his as well. Nightmare rejected Horror’s offer at a slice, so the red-eyed skeleton ate it himself.

“Mmm, this is pretty good,” Cross hummed.

“Thanthks!” Dream beamed, his cheeks stuffed with pie “Ish wasn’ on fffire thissh time.”

“This time?” asked Killer, raising a brow bone. “You’ve made a pie before?”

“Uh huh! I mashe a bue-bewwy pie for my bwro-”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Dream,” Nightmare quickly interjected.

His brother swallowed his food and looked at him. “Aren’t you gonna eat pie?” He asked.

“No, I’m full,” he lied.

Dream cut a piece of his mangled slice and held it up to him. “Try it! Pleaseeee?”

“I said I’m full. Maybe later,” Nightmare said firmly, pushing the fork out of his face. 

His brother pouted and stuck the rejected pie into his mouth and chewed it sourly. Nightmare rolled his eyelight, only to look up and see all of his boys zeroed in on him, each with mixed reactions to their little exchange. He cleared his throat and stood up from his seat, grabbing his bowl as well as the other dishes with his tentacles.

“I’m going to go wash these. Bring your plates in when you all are done,” he said.

Dream watched him until he disappeared behind the door into the kitchen. He turned to his pie, but he wasn’t hungry anymore, so he just flicked the crumbs of his crust.

“Don’t worry buddy, I’m sure Midnight will eat a slice later,” said Crossy.

“Okay,” he mumbled.

Dream didn’t want Midnight to eat pie later. He wanted him to try it now. He had hoped that maybe the pie would make him happy instead of grumpy, but he didn’t want to even taste it! 

“Are you . . . done?” Rory asked. 

Dream nodded and pushed his plate over to him. Rory picked it up and took the other pie plates. Once he left the room, the other three skeletons got up from their seats, so Dream scooted off of his as well. He quietly followed behind them as they headed into the TV room. They didn’t seem to notice him yet, which was good. They always kicked him out whenever they came inside to watch the TV tell stories. He wanted to watch them too! 

“So who picked the movie last week?” asked Killer.

Crossy said, “I think it was Horror, so it’s my turn tonight.”

This was his chance! Dream forgot all about being stealthy and sprinted over to Crossy. 

“Can I watch too?” He asked, looking up with wide eyelights.

“We already said you can’t watch TV, so beat it, pipsqueak,” Killer said, pointing at the door. 

Crossy folded his arms. “Stop it, Killer. It’s movie night, so everyone gets to watch, including Dream.”

“Fine, but it’s your funeral when Night- Midnight finds out you let Dream watch an adult movie,” he snapped back.

Crossy rolled his eyelights. “I’m sure we’ve got _something_ age appropriate for him,” he said, walking over to a shelf. 

“ What movie are we watching . . .” asked Rory as he entered the room.

Dream ran over to him and tugged on his hoodie. “Crossy said I can stay and watch the TV with you guys!”

“Oh . . . okay . . .” he hummed.

Rory walked over toward the big couch and dragged Dream along with him. He sat down on the end and helped Dream crawl onto the middle spot to sit beside him. He could hardly stay still though, he was so excited. He was finally going to see a movie up close and not through the door keyhole! 

“Aha!” shouted Crossy, holding up what Dream assumed was the movie. “This one should be fine. We just gotta mute it a couple times.”

Killer plopped right next to Dream. “Just put it in already.”

Crossy just ignored him and put the movie in the TV box. He then joined Dust on the couch with two seats. Dream scooted closer to Rory and wrapped both arms around his. He sighed happily. It felt so nice to be close to someone again. Crossy let him ride on his back once, but it wasn’t as comfy as cuddling was. He really missed cuddling N̶i̶g̶h̶t̶m̶a̶r̶e̶. 

“Why is Dream in here?” Nightmare asked sharply as he stood in the doorway.

All heads immediately swiveled in his direction.

Killer mumbled, “Not my idea.”

“Well, since it’s movie night, I picked something I thought he could watch,” explained Cross.

Nightmare sighed. “Alright then. Have fun,” he said and turned to leave.

“Wait, where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay with us?” 

He stopped and shook his head. “Sorry Cross, but I have paperwork that needs finishing. You all watch without me.”

“But . . . it's movie night . . .” He pouted.

“You’ve been working too much. Take a break,” added Killer.

Dream slid off the couch and patted his seat. “Yeah, Sit here, Midnight! Pleaseee? It’ll be fun!”

Nightmare hesitated. While he wanted to avoid spending as much time as possible around his brother, the offer to relax for the first time in days was very tempting. Besides, it would be nice to experience some semblance of normality since his life was turned upside down almost a week ago. Even if it meant being in the same room with Dream for longer than twenty minutes. He debated a moment more, before slouching over in defeat.

“Fine,” he sighed.

Nightmare headed for the couch, not missing the excited grins on Cross and Dream’s face, or the smug satisfaction on Killer’s. Even Horror looked up at him with a dilated eyelight. Their reactions made him feel more confident he made the right decision as he sat down in between two of his boys.

But that certainty disappeared as he watched Dream climb _onto his lap_. 

Nightmare’s hands froze in the air. All he could do was stare in shock at the oblivious child happily sitting in front of him. His first instinct was to get him off and shove him onto someone else’s lap or the floor. But his boys were all staring at him and he didn’t want to make a big deal of it in front of them. His fingers twitched. He quickly shoved them in his pockets before old, old habits overcame his rationale. 

Nightmare glared at his still staring boys. “If you don’t press play, I’m leaving,” he hissed. 

“Okay, okay, I’m starting it,” Cross said casually, but he could hear the amusement in his voice. 

As the movie began playing, Dream leaned forward and watched the screen intensely. Nightmare tried following his example, but it was difficult to not get distracted every time his brother “oohed” and “ahed” at every scene. Sometimes he would even look up and loudly ask him questions, to which Nightmare would give curt answers or simply tell him to _just watch the movie._ After the fifth question, he heard Killer mumble “make it shut up”, but he ignored him. Still, he was relieved as well once Dream finally stopped talking every two minutes. 

When his head began nodding, Nightmare knew why.

Ten minutes before the movie ended, Nightmare looked down to see Dream leaning back against his chest and breathing slowly. It seems his cooking lessons with Horror had drained him of the rest of his energy. Nightmare ignored him, but he still felt the tiniest twinge of . . . happiness? Must be because his brother wasn’t annoying him anymore. Yeah, that was it. It made it much easier to focus on the movie now- wait, it had finished? Nightmare blinked at the black screen and rubbed his head. Well, since that was over, he should probably get back to work. 

Killer chuckled. “Guess he couldn’t make it to the end, huh?”

“He’s kinda cute when he’s asleep,” Cross pointed out.

Nightmare gave him a deadpan stare and noticed that Dust had his phone out in front him. He narrowed his socket suspiciously, but he couldn’t see the camera light on. Still, it was better to leave before any of them got any ideas. Keeping his fists clenched tightly in his pockets, he wrapped a tentacle gently around his sleeping brother and carefully stood up from the couch.

“I’ll take him to bed. Goodnight boys,” he said before teleporting into Dream’s room.

Throwing the toys littering his bed onto the floor, he pulled the covers back and laid his brother down. Thankfully Dream didn’t wake up from the movement, and he didn’t stir when Nightmare took his accessories off either. He knew his brother slept pretty lightly every night n̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶r̶o̶u̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶s̶l̶e̶e̶p̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶o and was surprised to see him in such a deep sleep already. He brushed the reason for that out of his mind, turned off the light, and quietly shut the door behind him. 

Only to turn around and see all four skeletons standing in the hall in front of him.

Nightmare lifted his brow bone. “Didn’t I already say goodnight?” 

“We wanna get tucked into bed too,” Cross said innocently.

“Yeah, where’s our goodnight kiss?” Killer teased.

“Dream didn’t get any “goodnight kisses” and neither will any of you. Now go to your rooms before I make you,” he said, raising his tentacles.

Dust shrugged. “Can’t blame us for trying.”

He headed for his room, while Killer and Cross followed after him, both of them snickering to each other. Horror stayed behind, and after a moment, he stepped forward to embrace him with one of his soft bear hugs. Nightmare smiled tiredly and squeezed the skeleton’s shoulder with a free tendril. 

“Goodnight Horror. Sleep well,” he murmured.

“Goodnight . . .” the skeleton whispered back, before letting go and walking to his own room.

Nightmare shuffled down the cold corridor to his office and made his way over to his desk. He sunk into the chair and pushed aside the pile of tea mugs he somehow accumulated, although he didn’t remember how or when. Picking up his paperwork, he bent over it and tried to resume where he had left off. But no matter how much he made himself focus, his mind kept wandering. He knew why. But he hoped if he ignored the nagging thought in the back of his mind long enough, it would go away. 

It didn’t.

Nightmare sighed.

Standing up, he gathered his magic and teleported promptly to the kitchen. Walking over to the fridge, he opened it and stared. What little self control he had seeped away the moment he saw the pie and he immediately grabbed the tin. He served himself a slice onto a clean plate. Picking up a fork, he cut off a large piece and lifted it slowly to his mouth, only hesitating for a fraction of a second, before biting down on it. He closed his socket and chewed.

It tasted so much better than he remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Nightmare:** I'm just going to bury myself in work and avoid my brother as much as possible until this whole mess blows over.  
>  **Me:** Yeah, good luck with that buddy.
> 
> This chapter took me a lot longer than I planned. It was also much shorter, but as I was writing, more and more scenes kept occuring to me and I just had to add them. But regardless, it's done now and I hope you all enjoyed! It's by far the fluffiest chapter yet. Boy I just love fluffy chapters. So full of fluff and cuteness. Definitely not a sign of an angst storm brewing. No sir, no angst here. Only fluff.
> 
> *shoves next chapter under the rug*
> 
> Anyway, feel free to check out my [tumblr](https://calcium-cat.tumblr.com/) where I post OSD related art as well as other Undertale content!
> 
> Update: This chapter has some lovely fanart drawn for it by yuriyuriandyuraart on tumblr! Do check it out, it's amazing: https://yuriyuruandyuraart.tumblr.com/post/642747338694295552/i-have-no-self-control-at-all-this-writing-is


	6. Memories, The Good and The Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past returns to haunt Nightmare in more ways than one . . .

He opened his sockets slowly and squinted at the light above him.

Once his eyelight’s adjusted, he saw rays of sunlight shining down through the leaves of their Tree, warming his pale white cheeks. He yawned and groggily tried to rub away the dark shadows, but they stubbornly remained on his face. Listening to the melodic chirping of birds carried on the gentle breeze made it difficult for him to wake up, and he was tempted to nestle into the grass and continue napping. But as a guardian, he needed to wake up and, well, _guard._

With a grunt, he pushed himself upwards and felt the book he left lying open on his chest land shut into his lap. He sighed in frustration at losing his place. But he supposed it's what he gets for not remembering his bookmark. He stretched his arm behind his head and yawned again. Sitting hunched over, he looked out at the horizon to see the sun dipping into the late afternoon sky. Was it that late already? He glanced around for his brother, but there was no sign of him anywhere.

“Typical,” he huffed, rolling his eyelights.

Honestly, he should really stop expecting Dream to show up when he said he would. But Dream had been so adamant this time that he’d be back before noon. Back from where exactly, he couldn’t recall. Dream might have mentioned something about exploring the southern glen, but he had sort of blocked him out when he was speaking. He simply didn’t care about what Dream did or where. The only thing that mattered to him was the fact that his brother was shirking his duties and leaving him to guard their Tree.

Alone.

_Again._

Not that he couldn’t handle it by himself, but it was still Dream’s job to stay and help. Instead, his irresponsible twin spent nearly every hour away from their Tree, off playing somewhere in the valley or down in the village with his so-called “friends”. More like backbiting, manipulative bastards. Dream was too naive to see they were just using him, but _he_ didn’t trust them as far as he could shoot an arrow at them. Of course, convincing Dream that the villagers were greedy and self-centered was practically impossible. Still, they had argued over it for what must have been the hundredth time last night. He’d tried so hard to make Dream see the truth, but . . . 

_“Just because you don’t like them, doesn’t mean they’re bad! If you’d only spend time with them you’d see-”_

_“-See what exactly? That they hate and fear me?” he spat._

_“That’s not true!” Dream shouted, stomping his foot._

_He rolled his eyelights at the display. “Please, don’t bother denying it. I’ve seen the way they look at me. How they avoid me like I’m carrying some sort of disease. I’ve heard plenty of spiteful whispers behind my back when they thought I wasn’t listening. But you never notice because they always act like perfect angels when you’re around.”_

_“I’m not dumb, Nightmare!” His brother huffed. “You’re just being paranoid like usual. I’m telling you, it’s all just in your head.”_

_“All in my head? So I suppose waking up to find my most delicate books ripped and drenched in mud was “just in my head”? Or getting an angry bee hive thrown at me was but an illusion? And coming back to our Tree today to find several of them climbing and attempting to take the apples- that was nothing more than a figment of my imagination, was it?”_

_Dream wince at the mention of this morning's incident._

_“Look, I understand why you’re upset about that,” he sighed, “but they were just a couple of kids playing mean pranks. They didn’t know any better! And I told you, I’ve confronted their parents about their behaviour, so it won’t happen again.”_

_“It wouldn’t have happened in the first place if you had just been guarding our Tree like you were supposed to!” he snarled._

_Dream narrowed his sockets at him. “This is what you’re really upset over, isn’t it? Just because you’re content to spend the rest of your life as a guardian, doesn’t mean I have to,” he said, jabbing a finger at him._

_“It’s not up to me, brother. It’s our-”_

_“-Duty, I know. You always say that! But you’re just using it as an excuse because you want me to be stuck here forever like you!” Dream said, throwing his hands into the air._

_“It’s not an excuse, it’s reality,” he said coldly. “If you would just stop being so stubborn and accept it already, then we wouldn’t have to argue like this.”_

_“Oh, so **I’m** the stubborn one here? **You’re** the one who won’t believe the villagers are decent people no matter how many times I try to tell you!”_

_“I’ll believe you when I see it with my own eye sockets.”_

_Dream crossed his arms and turned away. “Well then . . . I guess there’s nothing else for me to say.”_

_“Fine. Goodnight, Dream,” he said, walking to the other side of the tree._

_“Goodnight!”_

The words they exchanged during their fight echoed in his mind, making his soul ache. He shook the memory from his head, then shook a second time to wake himself up. He wasn’t usually this tired. But then again, he didn’t usually sleep apart from his twin, and he’d gotten very little rest as a result. Seems not even the nap helped as he yawned for a third time since he awoke. He decided he’ll try and patch things up with his brother when he returns . . . at some point today. 

In the meantime, he might as well read some more to pass the time. Lifting the age-worn manuscript off his knee, he pried it’s pages apart and flipped the one he last remembered reading. It took him a moment or two, but he finally found the paragraph where his sockets had begun to droop. He scooted back and leaned against the familiar bark of his Tree, letting out a long, contented sigh. There was nothing quite like a good book to escape from one’s boredom and brotherly issues. 

But before he could read more than three sentences, something in the distance caught his eyelights. He begrudgingly peered over the edge of his book. In the distance, about twenty yards down the hill, he saw a figure sauntering towards him. For a second he thought it was his brother, but the slow, steady gait and large size of the stranger revealed it to be one of the villagers.

Great, _just_ great. As if he needed another headache to deal with.

Snapping his book shut, he set it to the side and got up from his spot. He leisurely stretched and yawned again, then walked forward to meet the visitor. As the villager continued coming closer, he could make out that he was an adult. He felt a little relieved at that. If it was just one adult, then this unwarranted meeting shouldn't last that long. They were probably coming to look for Dream anyway. Still, he stood on guard with his arms crossed as the villager approached him, stopping a few yards away. 

“Greetings Nightmare, King of Negativity and Guardian of the black apples,” he said, with an exaggerated bow.

He leveled him with an unamused, not flattered in the slightest by the use of his titles.

“Greetings. What is it you want,” he said curtly.

The villager stood upright, a tight smile on his face. “My request is a simple one, dear Guardian. I merely desire one of the golden apples.”

Ah, so he was one of the _them_. 

Every so often, some weasley little villager would come begging for his brother’s golden fruit. He wasn’t jealous in the slightest, but they were always such a nuisance when Dream wasn’t here to give it to them. Sometime they would even try to take it by force, but it was nothing his arrows couldn’t take care of. 

“I’m sorry, but Dream isn’t here currently. You’ll need to come back later and ask for one from him,” he said with a dismissive wave.

“But I cannot wait,” he insisted, an urgency in his tone, but it rang hollow. “You see, my beloved child that was so roughly removed from your tree came home yesterday with an injury. It’s infected now and the fever from it could take their life at any moments. The only thing that can save them now is the restorative power of the golden apple. Surely you won’t deny me the chance to save my child?”

He resisted rolling his eyelights.

Now he _knew_ this villager was full of it.

Not one of those ‘children' had been harmed by him in the slightest. If they were hurt, it was only because of their own foolishness and not because he did anything to them. Besides, even if his story was true (which he could tell it wasn’t), he certainly didn’t owe this villager any favors.

“I’m grieved to hear about your child,” he said nonchalantly, “but I have no say in the matter. The golden apples are not mine to give. I will let my brother know the moment he returns about your plight.”

He stared at the villager, expecting him to get angry and start demanding the apple, or the best case scenario: leave disappointed and dejected. But he saw neither of those reactions. Rather, the villager smiled a lazy, self-assured grin and chuckled.

“It’s such a pity Dream isn’t here. . .” he said, speaking louder than before.

He jolted in surprise to see a dozen or so villagers climbing up the hill on either side of the visitor. All strong, capable adults and all armed with various weapons. He straightened to his full height, his fists clenched at his sides as he stared them down.

“. . . looks like we will have to take the apples ourselves,” the villager finished and motioned to those around him to follow.

As they marched toward him, he summoned his bow, his face tight with determination. A wave of indigo arrows hit half of the villagers at once. The non-fatal spears infused with his negative magic pierced them with raw, all-consuming fear, and within seconds all of them fled down the hill as fast as they could run. Their unaffected companions charged angrily at him and successfully dodged his next wave of arrows. 

He quickly switched his long-distance weapon for his velvet, moon-tipped staff. He stood his ground, sweat beading on his forehead. While he was a capable fighter, these were more opponents than he was used to. He desperately wished his brother was here, but he couldn’t afford to get distracted by wishful thinking and directed his all focus to the oncoming villagers.

The fastest ones reach him first. He dodged them easily, slipping past their reach and knocking out their legs. They would only be down temporarily, but before he could think of a more permanent solution, another villager swung a rake at him. He stumbled backwards as they tried again, only to drive the weapon into the ground, giving him a clear shot at their head. As they crumbled to their knees, another one came barreling at him. He stepped aside, missing the spear by an inch. He turned around to face his oppenent, but as he did so, he saw several villagers had already reached the tree.

“Get away from it!” he growled.

The attacker jabbed at him, but he darted past them and sprinted recklessly toward the tree. But he barely took four steps forward when something knocked into the back of his skull. He fell head first onto the sweet smelling, but spinning earth, his staff flying out of his hand. Groaning, he struggled to pull himself to his feet, but only managed to lift his head when he felt a shadow fall over him. He looked up to see the villager from before, their leader, staring down at him. 

That’s all he saw before the club swung at his face.

_A bone-cracking sound._

_A choked scream._

_A wave of pain._

“There, that should keep him down for good,” hummed the villager, but he didn’t hear him.

He heard nothing. He saw nothing. He felt nothing.

Nothing besides unbearable 

P A I N

And yet, beyond the deafening ringing in his skull, he could hear a muffled sound. 

No, wait, he . . . he couldn’t hear it. 

He could _feel_ it. 

Like the ripple of water or the reverberating boom of thunder, it resounded over and over in his bones, drowning out all other noise. Despite pain’s attempt to drag him unconscious, the dread building in his soul gave him the strength to lift his sockets open. Although his vision swam and was blotted with darkness, it was just clear enough to let him watch the axe collide with the trunk of their Tree, sending another shockwave through him.

_They . . . ._

_They were cutting down **their Tree.**_

“ . . n-no! st - op . .” he tried to shout, but it came out as frightened, raspy whisper.

The swings never faltered for a second. One after the other, after the other, after the other; the force of their blows knocking several of the apples from their branches. It felt as though they were chopping at his own bones rather than the bark. He watched helplessly as they sliced through the ancient tree with ease, too overwhelmed with dizzying pain and panic to move

_Whack._

_Whack._

_Whack._

_Whack._

Then, with a deep, bellowing creak, it started to fall.

He tried to scream, but he couldn’t. He stretched out a trembling hand as their Tree slowly descended to the earth, as if by doing so he could catch it. But he didn’t, and it crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. The villagers whooped and hollered at their achievement, but he wasn’t listening as he stared at the toppled giant in disbelief.

Their Tree . . . was dead.

It . . was dead.

IT WAS DEAD.

His hand fell limply to the ground like their Tree, only there was no sound. But there was _something_. Its smooth, solid surface brushed against his finger tips. He lowered his gaze and looked. It was an apple. . 

He couldn’t save their Tree, but at least he could save this apple.

With the last of his waning strength, he grabbed it and pulled it close to him. But the moment he did so, a sick, black color began to bleed out from his phalanges and spread over the entire apple. He stared at the now rotten looking fruit in horror.

Did . . . did he do that?

He didn’t mean to! He . . . h-he was trying to save it! To protect this one apple from getting taken. But instead he poisoned with his magic. He squeezed his sockets shut, choking on a sob as he felt a wet, sticky tear trail down his uninjured cheek.

This was all his fault!

He’d failed his job as guardian of their Tree. Now it was lying dead on the ground, it’s fruit ripe for the villager’s picking. Even his best effort to save just one golden apple was a failure, as it sat blackened in his palm. He’d failed, and there was nothing he could do. He was too weak. The villagers would take their fruit and he was powerless to stop them-

_. . . or . . . was he?_

Opening his sockets, he stared at the apple still in his hand.

 _Sure . . . the fruit was tainted now, but . . . it still had **some** magic left in it, right?_

His grip around it tightened.

 _If eating it could somehow give him the ability to fight back against the villagers and protect what golden apples were left, then why shouldn’t he take this chance?_

He brought the fruit to his mouth, sinking his teeth into it’s flesh . . .

_After all, what more did he possibly have to lose?_

. . . and swallowed.

Immediately his magic absorbed the power into the very core of his being. He gasped, dropping the remaining fruit from his hand. He grasped at blades of grass, trying to breathe, but he couldn’t get the air into his chest. His bones shuddered and rattled as the icy magic spread and burned within them.

**it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt**

And then . . . 

. . . it didn’t. 

The freezing pain ebbed away after a few moments. And while he still felt colder than before, he also felt . . . stronger.

_Much stronger._

He stood up, all of his pain now completely forgotten about. Not even his right eye socket hurt anymore. Although when he opened it, he couldn’t see anything. That was a shame. But he only needed _one_ working eyelight to focus on the traitorous villagers encircling their Tree. Just looking at them made his magic boil, his rage culminating physically as pure, sharpened malice in his hands. 

“Grab as many as you can. We can always come back for the rest,” their leader commanded, standing with his back to him.

He took a silent step forward.

“Well what about Dream? Won’t he-”

“Leave him to me. I can handle that spoiled brat.”

He raised his fists and aimed.

“There’s so many, I can’t believe we didn’t do this soon- wait, what!? Why are they all turning bla- _ACK!”_

Their leader turned to see his companion fall, a ebony fragment protruding from his back, as more voices cried out in agony around him. 

“Oops . . .” he grinned darkly, his voice scratching against his throat. “. . . I missed.”

The villager gaped in terror for a brief second, then furrowed his brow and pointed a finger at him. 

“Don’t just stand there, attack him!” he yelled to the few still standing.

But before any of them could move, more pitch black fragments whizzed toward them, stabbing them like the quills of a porcupine. They all simultaneously fell dead, just like the Tree whose life they thoughtlessly and greedily claimed. He let their leader take in the carnage around him, relishing in the negative emotions radiating from him, before impaling his right eye, killing him instantly. 

It was . . . kinda pathetic, really.

He carefully stepped over the motionless bodies and piles of dust, watching the former warily just in case one was still alive somehow. But none of them stirred aside from the wind wiping at their clothes. Strangely, he felt no remorse from having just killed all of them. Rather, he felt relieved. Elated, even. He reasoned that it must be because the golden apples were- 

**Black.**

**They were all b l a c k.**

His legs buckled under him and he plummeted to the ground. 

“No . . . no . . . no no no NO NO NO!” he screamed, clawing his skull with his s̶t̶a̶i̶n̶e̶d hands. 

Why!? 

Why did this happen!?

_Why did any of this happen!?_

He’d tried. He’d tried so hard. He did everything he could to protect their Tree, to protect the apples. He’d eaten one of them just so he could kill the _thieving murders_. But it wasn’t enough, not even to save a single one. He still failed. 

It was all h̶ ̶i̶ ̶s̶ ̶ ̶f̶ ̶a̶ ̶u̶ ̶l̶ ̶t̶ 

No . . .

No . . . it . . .

It was . . . 

It was all _their fault_.

The villagers.

Those lying, backstabbing, greedy, treacherous villagers.

They did this. 

They cut down their Tree. 

They destroyed the apples. 

They almost killed him.

Well . . . 

. . . maybe he should kill _them_ instead.

But disposing of a few shocked-stiff villagers was less of a challenge than taking on an entire village. Even with his enhanced magic, he was no match for that many at once. If he wanted to destroy them and their home like they had done to him, then he needed to become stronger. 

**Much stronger.**

He glanced up at the dark fruit hanging before him.

Yes . . . that could work.

He’d only need to eat a few apples. Just to make himself powerful enough to bring justice down upon them. Snatching the closest one off it’s branch, he eyed it hungrily, his mouth watering with magic. Just a little more power. That’s all he needed. Just a little more . . .

_Bite_

The energy swelled inside him, though not as freezing as the first time. 

_Bite_

The juice dripped onto the withered grass below him, it’s color as dark as the clouds above.

_Bite_

He was practically swimming in magic now, his bones becoming coated with it’s essence.

_Bite_

The negative energy overflowed, spilling and curling outward from his back as oozing tendrils.

_Bite_

He turned towards the punny village below him, his one eyelight burning with seething hatred 

_Bite_

Each slow, slogging footstep shook the ground as he drew closer and closer to his target.

_Bite_

He watched many of them run and cower in their homes, while others banished weapons against him.

_Bite_

The feeble arrows did nothing to his now invincible, immortal body, and the spears snapped like twigs.

_Bite_

He leveled their homes to the ground, the air filled with their screaming

_Bite_

So 

_Bite_

Much

_Bite_

S c r e a m i n g 

Until there was no more screaming. 

There were no more villagers

There was no more village.

There was nothing.

There was nothing left to guard. 

There was nothing left to _kill._

The only thing left was the buzzing magic and simmering fury inside of him, clouding his mind with dark twisted thoughts and leaving an empty feeling in his soul. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think straight. So he did what he always did: go back to their Tree. 

There was no tree to go back to, but he didn’t care.

He trekked up the steep, bare hill, sweating and breathing heavily as he tried to control the volatile power sloshing in his and over his bones. He’d never felt more alive, while at the same time, he felt like he could die at any moment. Once he made it to the top, his hazy eyelights roamed over what remained of the dead, drifting over toward the stump of their Tree, before focusing on . . . 

_Dream._

He froze, the world slowing to a stop.

His brother stood several yards away in front of their Tree with his back to him. He wasn’t moving either, save for the subtle shake of his shoulders. His head was angled down at the ground and his hands were clenched at his sides. In one he tightly held a small bundle of lavender, it’s fragrance wafting towards him on the stale breeze.

He considered what his next move should be, when Dream suddenly spun around.

The skeleton gasped, his golden eyelights shrinking at the sight of him, while glistening tears streamed down his pale face. He couldn’t just see the horror and fear in his brother’s face. He could _feel_ it. His disgust, his regret, his grief, his confusion- all of it was instantly absorbed into his very soul without any effort. 

He grimaced and gazed at the bloodied, dusty earth near his feet.

̶N̶o̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶ ̶d̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶l̶o̶o̶k̶ ̶a̶t̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶ ̶p̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶ ̶.̶

̶I̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶ ̶f̶ ̶ ̶a̶ ̶ ̶u̶ ̶ ̶l̶ ̶ ̶t̶

“N-Nightmare? What . . . what happened?” croaked Dream.

_What happened?_

The question sat bitterly in his mouth.

_**What happened!?** _

He gritted his teeth.

_Dream didn’t know what happened, because Dream wasn’t here._

_He wasn’t here to guard their Tree._

_He wasn’t here to stop them from cutting it down._

_He wasn’t here to protect his golden apples from corrupting._

_He wasn’t here to protect **him** from getting hurt_

_He wasn’t here when any of that happened._

_He . . ._

_. . . betrayed him_

_**Dream betrayed him.** _

_**Dream abandoned him.** _

_**Dream did this to him.** _

_**It was** _

_**All** _

_**His** _

_**F A U L T** _

“Y- you . . .” he glared unsteadily up at the figure, “You did this . . .”

“W . . .what!? I- I didn’t-”

_“YOU BETRAYED ME!”_

Dream flinched, dropping the lavender in his hand, and took a step backwards. He lost his balance all of a sudden and almost fell, but managed to right himself in time. Dream looked down at what he tripped on and snatched it up, holding it out for him to see. 

It was a golden apple.

_The last golden apple._

His magic flared to life, writhing wildly behind his back, as he stared at the fruit in the other’s hand.

_That belonged to him_

“Give it to me, Dream! Now!” he hissed.

The traitor tensed at his demand. Then, clutching the golden apple to his chest, he closed his sockets and bowed his head.

“I . . . I can’t, Nightmare. I can’t let you have it,” he muttered, adding brokenly, “I-I’m sorry, brother. . .”

His socket widened as he watched Dream’s chest start to glow with a shining yellow light, realising just a moment too late what he was doing. 

“NO!” he shouted, flinging out his hand and sending a tendril of magic toward the apple.

It dove like an arrow through the air, reaching Dream in a matter of seconds . . . _and piercing right through him._

Nightmare blinked.

Wait . . . 

. . .this . . . this wasn’t supposed to happen . . .

His brother should have petrified into stone the moment before his tentacle made impact with him. 

It . . . . it wasn’t supposed to _impale_ him. 

But as Nightmare stared at his brother, he could clearly see the goopy appendage running through his chest and sticking out on the other side, dripping with warm, golden magic. He felt his soul drop to his non-existent stomach. 

“B . . . broth . . er-r?” 

The tiny, feeble voice sent a shiver down his spine. 

He looked up at his brother’s face. The Dream he’d seen just a second ago was gone. Now hanging suspended in the air by his tentacle was the younger Dream he remembered from his childhood. He tried to remove the tentacle, but he couldn’t move. All he could do was stare.

The small, shaking eyelights stared up at him, while black sudge poured from his mouth and sockets.

_No . . . no no no! This was all wrong!_

“I’m . . . s-sorry . . . ” He gasped, his eyelights sputtering out, leaving only hollow, empty sockets.

_He wasn’t trying to hit him!_

His brother’s form shattered in front him, his dust scattering everywhere.

_Why . . ._

He looked down at his hands. They were coated in dust. 

_Why did everything he touch . . ._

_**D** _

_**I** _

_**E** _

________________________________________________

Nightmare’s socket flew open, but all he saw was darkness.

Where . . . w-where was he!? Where was Dream!? 

His short, erratic breaths came rapidly, making him light headed. He noticed his hands were gripping something. A blanket? He tugged it closer to his shoulders, his teeth chattering slightly at the freezing chill in his bones. The humming of his soul was painfully loud in his head, but he ignored it and focused on his surroundings again. After a moment, his eyesight cleared. 

He . . . 

He was in his bedroom. In the middle of the night. Lying in his bed.

The Tree . . . the villagers . . . his brother . . .

It was just a bad m̶e̶m̶o̶r̶y dream.

Nightmare rubbed his socket and swallowed dryly. His breathing was still shallow, so he took several deep breaths as he counted to seven, just like he told his boys. The hum of his soul finally quieted a little and he didn’t feel as cold as before. With a long, winded sigh, he sank exhausted into his pillow.

_It was just a bad dream._

He was fine. Dream was fine. Dream wasn’t dust. Everything was fine. 

Nightmare frowned.

Well . . . maybe not _everything._

He’d remembered having this dream before. He used to have it quite frequently, actually. But ever since he took in his boys, the nightmare didn’t haunt him much at all anymore. So why did it just randomly return? Was it because Dream was living with him? But it’s already been over two weeks since his brother became a child. Why would he have this dream now of all times? It made no sense!

Nightmare groaned. He supposed it didn’t really matter why. It was just a bad dream, so there was nothing to worry about, right? 

Right. 

He turned over on his side and snuggled father under the covers, letting his mind drift into the black sea of unconsciousness. But everytime he neared the edge of the void, a small, irrational fear pulled him back from it. After changing his sleeping position for the third time, he sighed and opened his socket, still fully awake. 

As idiotic as it was, if checking on Dream to make sure he wasn’t dust would make his stupid soul shut up, then he might as well go and get it over with. 

Nightmare huffed, sitting up in bed and pulling the blankets off. He shuffled into his slippers and stumbled toward the door- too tired to bother with a teleport. Shielding his eyelight from the increase of light, he stared at the floor as he made his way down the hall. But when he reached Dream’s room, he looked up to see that the door was . . . _open._

He rushed inside and flipped the light switch on, only to have his suspicion confirmed. Dream’s bed was empty. There wasn’t any sign of him o̶r̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶d̶u̶s̶t anywhere. He felt his soul speed up, but he took a deep breath. He needed to stay calm. There was no reason to panic yet. Dream probably just woke up thirsty and left to get a glass of water. 

Yeah, that was it. 

Nightmare walked back into the corridor and walked briskly for the kitchen, forcing himself not to act rashly and teleport there straight away. As he walked past the boys bedrooms, something in his peripheral vision caught his eyelight and he stopped. He looked at Dust’s door.

It was cracked open.

If that wasn’t disturbing already, the negative aura seeping from the room was enough to put him on edge. Putting his look for Dream on hold, he stepped closer to the door, finally noticing the familiar muted emotions seeping from the room. Looks like he wasn’t the only one having a bad dream tonight. Nightmare reached the knob, but stopped when he heard someone whispering. It was so faint he didn’t recognize them. Had one of the other boys woken up and gone inside Dust’s room? That would explain why the door was open. 

Pressing his skull up to the edge, he decided to wait outside for a moment and listen. 

____________________________________

_“Dust?”_

_“Dust? Dust, are you okay? Dust?”_

_“Duuusssst!”_

The voice shouted into his ear canal, jerking him awake. He bolted upright as his sockets snapped open wide, his one blue and red eyelight ablaze with magic. He whirled toward the attacker and lifted his fist, ready to summon a blaster with a snap of his fingers. But as he stared at the figure in the bed next him, their silhouette shifted from that of the human child into a skeleton. A tiny skeleton, with bright, golden eyelights. 

Dust blinked, his eyelights fading back to normal, and rubbed a hand over his skull.

“Are you- are you okay, Dust?” Dream asked in a hushed voice.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, glaring down at him.“Wanna tell me why you’re in my bed, kid?”

Dream anxiously gripped his shirt in his fists

“I . . I heard noises. Scary noises. So I came in here and I saw a bunch of stuff going everywhere!” he said, pointing behind him at the moonlit room.

Dust looked and saw several new scorch marks on the walls and some of his personal items haphazardly tossed all over the room with holes in them. The sight didn’t phase him one bit. His LV-infused magic was stable for the most part now, but when he slept he had less . . . _control_ over his more violent instincts. 

This wasn’t the first time he woke up from a nightmare to his room smelling of blaster burns, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“You were yelling too,” continued Dream, drawing Dust’s focus back to him, “and it sounded like you were hurt. I t-tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t wake up, and I-I was scared you-”

“Hey, hey, I’m fine. See?” he said as soon as he spotted the tattle-tale wobble of his eyelights. 

Dream wiped a socket and sniffed. “Are . . . are you sure you’re okay?”

Dust grabbed the blanket he’d kicked off in his sleep over and pulled it back over himself.

“One hundred percent sure. So go back to bed and leave me alone no-”

_squeak squeak!_

Dream gasped, his head turning toward the nightstand

“What was that?” he asked, now sounding curious instead of concerned.

Dust sighed.

He forgot his nightly episodes always woke up his pet. The poor thing would remain a scared, shivering mess until he calmed him down. While he really didn’t want Dream to know about him, it was too late for that now. He might as well not make the little guy more miserable by having him wait any longer. 

Dust leaned over to the cage. Even though the moon illuminated his room, he didn’t need it to see where the latch on the metal container was and quickly unhooked it. Extending his palm inside, tiny claws instantly clung to his phalanges. As he reattached the door, his pet scurried up his skeletal arm and curled his quivering body around his vertebrae.

“Oh wow! It’s a rat!” Dream exclaimed, stretching his grubby hands toward the rodent.

Dust grabbed his wrists and shoved them back.

“Yeah, and he’s mine. So don’t **touch him,** ” he warned with a tight grin.

Dream pouted, puffing out his cheeks. "Why not? I promise I’ll be really careful with him! Pleaseee?”

Dust shook his head, unaffected by the wide, pleading eyelights. 

“I said no, kid.” 

He braced himself for Dream to throw a fit or start crying again. But instead, the tiny skeleton innocently smiled up at him. 

“Oh . . . okay! I didn’t know you had a rat. Does he have a name?” 

Dust snorted. 

Of course Dream didn’t know. He wasn’t allowed in his room thanks to Nightmare’s rule. Probably because of the chemicals and other “not-childproof-items” he had lying around. Not that he cared if Dream got his hands his stuff. It would be pretty funny if he made himself explode or something. But he wasn’t going to argue with Nightmare. 

“Yeah, it’s Cyanide,” he said, scratching under his rat’s chin.

When the rodent sniffed and nuzzled his hand happily in response, Dust felt himself relax a little. 

“Hi Cy . . Cy-an-ide! I’m Dream! It’s nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully, giving him a little wave.

Dust noticed the gesture caught the rat’s attention and watched as his nose twitched cautiously. Then, before he had time to react, Cyanide slid down his shirt and clambered into Dream’s lap, quietly squeaking and sniffing the new skeleton. Dust stared dumbfounded at his pet.

"Oh! Did you wanna say “hi” too?” Dream said, holding his hand out to Cyanide. 

The rat smelled it, then rubbed his nose affectionately onto his glove. Dream giggled and began to gently stroke Cyanide’s back with his other hand. Then to Dust’s increasing amazement, his pet _actually reciprocated_ the petting, arching his back and twisting his tail around Dream’s wrist. That only encouraged Dream to laugh more, and he scratched under Cyanide’s chin just like Dust had done a moment ago, causing his whiskers to twitch happily.

“How . . . how did you do that?” Dust asked, finally getting over his shock.

Dream titled his head to the side. “Do what?” 

“Get him to like you? Cyanide doesn’t like anyone.”

Well, anyone new to him, that is. It took Cyanide forever to warm up to strangers. Even _he_ had to patiently wait weeks for his experiment-turned-pet to grow comfortable to him. 

Dream just shrugged, still stroking the rat. “Dunno. I’m friends with a lot of animals back home. I guess I’m just really good at making new friends!”

Dust frowned ever so slightly. 

So what, Dream was some sort of . . . animal whisperer? As if he wasn’t already weird enough- now he could charm practically any animal no matter how shy and skittish they were? _Including his own damn pet?_

It really pissed him off.

But . . .

As he watched Dream continue to cuddle and fawn over the rat, he couldn’t help noticing how happy and content Cyanide looked in his arms. Any sign of fear from earlier was gone, and his tense, wary attitude had melted the moment he jumped into Dream's arms. Even his eyes were closed, showing how completely relaxed he was.

Gaining his pet’s trust was no easy task. So if Cyanide could instantly warm up to the small skeleton . . .

. . . then _maybe_ Dust could give him a chance too.

“He’s sooo soft,” he cooed, bringing Cyanide up to his cheek.

The rat poked him with his nose, drawing out another c̶u̶t̶e giggle from Dream, and for a second Dust could swear he saw his eyelights turn into stars. Dust smiled softly at the two and muffled a tired yawn. He then lowered his hand toward Cyanide.

“Come ‘ere,” he said, motioning him forward.

Cyanide leapt out of Dream’s grasp and into his, settling comfortably in his palm.

“Awww,” whined Dream sadly.

“Sorry kiddo,” Dust said with another long yawn. “Time to sleep.”

Dream’s eyelights once again light up with worry. “Oh . . . are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said, closing his eyes and lying down. 

When he didn’t feel Dream get off his bed, he opened a socket irritably. “I’m serious kiddo. I’ll fall asleep eventually. Go back to bed.”

But instead of convincing Dream to leave, the kid perked up and said, “Oh! I can help!”

“What?” he asked, lifting a brow bone.

“I can help you fall asleep!” he said with confidence. “Nightmare always sang a song he made when I couldn’t go to sleep. I could sing it for you if you want!” 

Dust mulled over his offer.

On the one hand, he wasn’t some babybones that needed to be sung a lullaby. But . . . he did find it kinda difficult to fall asleep after a bad dream without Nightmare’s presence to soothe him. He didn’t expect the song to help very much, but it would be better than nothing.

Besides, he couldn’t pass up hearing a lullaby that _Nightmare_ of all monsters made.

“Knock yourself out,” Dust said, rolling on his side away from Dream. 

He felt Dream scoot closer and lean against him. It was a bit uncomfortable, but he was too tired to care. Cyanide snuggled into the pillow next to his head like he always did, and Dust curled his hand around him and let his eyelids droop shut. Just when he thought Dream changed his mind about the lullaby, he heard him start to sing in a soft voice.

_“ . . .Sun goes down, and we are here tooogeeetherrr. Firefliiesss, glow like a thousaaand charrrrrrmsss . . . .”_

_“ . . . Stay with meeee, and we can sleeeep toooogeeetherrr, right here in my armssss, toooniiight . . .”_

Dream suddenly paused. 

“I . . . I don’t remember the next words. Is that okay?” he asked.

“Mmm,” Dust grunted.

A moment later, Dream resumed his lullaby, this time humming to a different tune.

_La la la . . . la la la!_ Um . . . oh! _Stars begin to climb! La la la . . . la la la . . . sweeter aaallll the timeeee!”_

He yawned, then repeated the first set of verses again, just a tad bit slower.

The childish singing made it hard for Dust to take the song seriously, but he could admit the tune was actually pretty soothing. It was so strange to imagine Nightmare singing such a sentimental lullaby. Although, if the dark skeleton were the one humming it to him, Dust knew he’d probably fall asleep in seconds. But right now, he wasn’t the one struggling to stay awake.

Dust couldn’t see him, but from the multiple yawns, the faltering in his singing, and the way he slumped against his back, he could tell the kid was falling asleep and fast. Sure enough, Dream slowly laid onto the pillow beside his and let out a sleepy sigh. After a moment of silence, he peeked over his shoulder to see the small skeleton’s chest slowly rise and fall in the moonlight. Nightmare probably wouldn’t be happy about this in the morning, but Dust didn’t care. 

He was too lazy to carry Dream back to his own bed anyway.

___________________________________________________________

Nightmare pressed a hand over his mouth, preventing the choked sob from escaping.

But the tears still fell.

Letting out a shaky breath, he teleported to his bedroom and buried his head in his pillow. He didn’t know when he finally fell asleep, if he even did. Thankfully the negative essence that coated his entire being successfully hid any puffy shadows that showed up under his sockets in the morning. He got up at his usual time and sat at the table for breakfast like normal.

Everything was normal.

He didn’t hear Dream’s voice singing over and over in his head.

He didn’t notice Dream’s good mood when he trailed into the room behind ‘Dusty’. 

He didn’t pay attention to Dream’s rambling about the adventures he had with his forest friends.

_But he did feel a slight tug on his soul when he saw Dream grinning up at him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Nightmare, eating the corrupted apples:** You think I'm the bad guy? Fine. Now I'm the bad guy.
> 
> *chugs an entire bottle of angst* I regret nothing! :D
> 
> So yeah, this is my personal take on the apple incident, and it's only canon to OSD, not OG Dreamtale. I know it's probably a bit jarring to include in a fic like this, but I wanted to explore my own version of the events and hopefully help explain Nightmare's (and Dream's) perspective a bit more. I kinda got a little _experimental_ with the writing stlye there, but I had fun and I hope you all enjoyed it too. 
> 
> Also, I hope it doesn't overshadow Dust and Dream's moment of bonding. I know the latter is much more lighthearted in tone, but it didn't make a complete chapter by itself and since both include having nightmares, I decided to mesh the two parts together. (After all, isn't that what I'm doing with this entire story? Giving both angst and fluff at the same time. You can cry and eat your cake too!)
> 
> I'd love any and all feedback you guys have the time to spare!
> 
> And feel free to check out my [tumblr](https://calcium-cat.tumblr.com/) where I post OSD related art as well as other Undertale content!
> 
> PS: Just in case, I wanted to remind you guys that Dream and Nightmare are both 20 years old during this apple incident!


	7. Fighting, Fighting, and More Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Killer and Cross fight again, but this time Dream is there to help

“Hey Killer!”

The patter of feet sounded louder as Dream ran up to him, but he didn’t stop walking.

“Killer?”

He stomped down the hallway faster to shake the kid off and tried his best to ignore him. 

“Killerrrrrrrr!”

His eye socket twitched, the whiny voice pushing him to the edge of his very, _very_ thin patience.

“Killer! Killer! Killer! Kill-”

“-Shut the heck up and leave me alone!” he snarled.

Killer twisted around and towered menacingly over Dream. The kid stopped talking, but he wasn’t the least bit phased by his outburst. It seemed his threatening, black-socket look didn’t creep the kid out much anymore. In fact, Dream looked angry rather than scared as he stared up at him with his arms crossed.

“You shouldn’t say shut up. It’s not nice,” he said matter-of-factly.

Killer clenched his fists so hard he could hear the bone scrape against bone.

Dream’s little “goody-two-shoes” attitude really nettled his bones. He didn’t need some toddler scolding him for his anger issues- he already got enough of that from Nightmare. But since he couldn’t touch the little brat, he just glared at him.

“Hurry up and tell me what you want,” he demanded through gritted teeth. 

Dream’s frown flipped instantly into a grin as he said, “I wanna fight!”

Killer straightened up, a mental record-scratch ripping through his thoughts.

“You . . . want to fight me?” 

“Mmmhmm!” Dream hummed.

Killer stared at him with a deadpan look. “Yeah, no, that’s not happening.”

He wouldn’t mind knocking the obnoxious kid down a peg, but Nightmare had made it clear none of them were to hurt Dream- on purpose or by accident. Even fighting each other in front of him was prohibited. So strange request or not, Killer wasn’t stupid enough to risk Nightmare’s wrath for the brat.

“Please, Killer, pleaseee?” Dream begged anyway, grating Killer’s ear canals.

“I said no, pipsqueak,” he said, but then added mockingly, “what makes you think you can fight anyway? You’re like 3 feet tall right now.”

The small skeleton puffed out his cheeks indignantly. 

“I know that! But one day, I’m gonna be big and strong, and then I can go rescue Nightmare! But- but I’m not very good at fighting . . .” he faltered, looking away and fiddling with his hands. 

Killer snorted at the unintended irony of that admission, drawing the golden eyelights back up to him.

“So will you please show me how to fight like you?” Dream asked.

He stuffed his hands in his jacket. “Can’t you get Cross to do it?” 

“I tried to, but he said no. He told me I should ask you!”

“Of course he did,” Killer muttered, mentally noting to beat up Cross later for dumping the brat on him. 

“Yep! And he said you’re really good at fighting too!”

He arched a brow bone at Dream. 

“Cross said that?” he asked, sounding more surprised than he meant too. 

“Uh huh!” Dream nodded.

Despite feeling a _teensy_ bit flattered, Killer huffed, “whatever, the answer’s still no.”

“But Dusty and Rory won’t show me how to fight either!” Dream said exasperated. “I promise I’ll be good! Please, Killer?”

He hesitated a second too long and saw Dream’s eyelights start to wobble fuzzily.

“I . . . I need to rescue my brother . . .” he sniffed. 

Killer scrunched his face.

Great, was Dream going to cry again? If the brat thought he could persuade him with puppy eyes and a sob story that was actually a lie, then he had another thing coming. Cause he wasn’t a wimp like Horror and Cross who caved every time a tear fell from his socket. No, he was smart and ditched him the moment that happened.

Which is what he should be doing right now.

But . . .

But it couldn’t hurt to mess with the kid a little . . . right? Nothing too bad- just rough him up a bit. This might be his one chance to have a bit of fun with him. And if Nightmare found out, then he could say it was Dream’s idea. Besides, it’s not like he was going to seriously injure the annoying brat. 

Killer rubbed the back of his skull and sighed reluctantly.

“Well, I don’t have anything to do right now, so . . . why not.”

Dream wiped his face, his eyelight’s shining brightly. “R-really? You’ll teach me?”

He shrugged. “If you’re going to keep pestering me about it, then fine, I guess I will. But you have to do everything I tell you to do.”

“Yay! I will, promise!” the kid cheered, bouncing on his heels. “Thank you, Killer, than-”

“Shut up and come on before I change my mind,” he snapped.

Turning away, Killer angrily walked in the direction of the training room. He wondered in the back of his head if he was making a mistake here. He planned on getting rid of Dream as soon as possible, and now he was going to show the insufferable brat how to fight? Maybe he hadn’t thought this decision through thoroughly.

Something grabbed his hand all of a sudden, jerking him from his thoughts.

Looking down, Killer saw Dream’s gloved hand clutching his. 

“Get off me,” he grumbled, yanking his arm away.

Dream took a step back. “S-sorry . . . you were going too fast. I couldn’t keep up.”

“It’s not my fault you're slow,” he said, hunching over and resuming his march.

However, he did lessen his pace a bit to make sure Dream wouldn’t fall behind. He didn’t want his grubby little hands grabbing him again. They walked the rest of the way down the winding hall and the flight of stairs without any more talking to Killer’s immense relief. He was feeling a bit calmer when he opened the door to the training room, only for Dream to break the silence with a loud, irritating gasp.

“I can come into the training room now?” he asked, his eyelights darting around the room

Killer walked toward the weapons and said, “Yeah, but only when I’m here. Otherwise you’re not allowed to come in. Ya got that?”

But Dream didn’t answer him. 

From the amazed “oohs” and “aahs” echoing behind him, it was obvious the kid was distracted at the moment. Killer ignored him and turned back to the weapons rack. Most were too dangerous or too big for the tiny skeleton to hold. After a moment though, he spied a few thin, wooden poles that would work perfectly. He grabbed two of them and turned back to Dream.

“Here, catch,” Killer said, tossing a pole right over his head.

Dream scrambled after it and picked it up. “I got it!” he yelled.

Killer muffled another snort. He couldn’t resist contrasting the old Dream’s rigid battle stance and glowing staff with the babybones in front of him holding a pole twice his size. The sight was c̶u̶t̶e hilarious. Killer sauntered over to the center of the room, propping an elbow on his staff and lazily leaning on it.

“Ya ready?” he drawled.

Dream nodded resolutely. “Ready!”

Killer yawned, “well what are ya waiting for? Attack me.”

Holding his pole in the air, Dream charged at him with what was probably supposed to be a battle cry, but was closer to the roar of a kitten. Killer boredly yawned again. Then he held out the hand that wasn’t supported by the pole, which Dream immediately ran into. The kid grunted and pushed against his palm, whacking at him blindly with his pole. But Killer held him back easily and was barely hit by the clumsy swings.

After another second, he pulled his hand away, making Dream fall forward and land flat on his face.

“Good try, squirt,” Killer snickered down at him.

Dream groaned, rubbing his face as he pushed himself to his feet and retrieved his pole. Killer figured he might start crying or throw a tantrum at having been beaten with little to no effort. But the kid just brushed himself off and faced him again with that stubborn look of his.

“I wanna do it again!” he shouted.

He shrugged. “Alright. But this time, I’m going to attack and you have to defend yourself.”

“Okay,” the kid said, holding out his pole. 

Killer smirked at Dream. Then swinging his staff, he knocked short little legs out from under him, sending him sprawling onto the floor a second time. Killer attempted to muffle his laughter with a hand, but he did a poor job of it.

This was just _pathetic._

Dream, the guardian of positivity, one the most powerful monsters in the multiverse, had fallen _twice_ in five minutes, and _he didn’t even break a sweat!_ Sure, he did have a bit of a height and age advantage right now, but it was still funny how easily he could make Dream crumble to the floor.

“Heeey, no fair, I wasn’t ready!” said Dream, his cheeks glowing. 

Killer squatted down beside him and chuckled. “Awww, what are ya gonna do about it, huh? Cry?”

Suddenly, a tiny hand slapped him in the face.

Or at least, it tried to. The slap didn’t hold any real punch to it and was little more than a weak pat. But it was so unexpected that Killer almost fell backwards from surprise. Instead, he quickly got to his feet, rubbing the slight sting off his cheek. He glared at Dream who was struggling to stand up.

“Tch’, don’t be such a sore loser,” he huffed.

The kid glared right back at him. “I’m not a loser! Your attack wasn’t fair, so I didn’t lose!”

“I don’t care,” Killer said, waving his hand dismissively, “Just try to hit me with your stick already.”

Dream raised his pole and awkwardly swung it at him, but he blocked it with a smooth swing of his own. The kid pulled away and tried again, only for Killer to stop that blow as well. Dream hit him a third, then a fourth, and then a fifth time- becoming more wild and unfocused with each attack. By the thirteenth swing, Killer had to admit, the kid was a persistent little thing even if he wasn’t progressing any. 

_Finally_ , Dream slowed down and eventually stopped, holding his pole limply as he bent over and panted. Killer decided to cut the kid a break and loosely swung his makeshift weapon over his shoulder.

“You know, if you’re planning on stabbing someone, swinging crazy like that isn’t going to work,” he commented nonchalantly.

“But- but I don’t wanna stab anyone!” Dream said horrified.

Killer furrowed his brow. “You don’t?”

When Dream shook his head, he added, “not even the, uh, ‘villagers’ you want to fight?”

“No! I wanna fight them, but I don’t wanna hurt them! I- I just want my brother back,” he said, shuffling his foot.

“But . . . but don’t you hate them?” Killer insisted.

Dream frowned and said, “I don’t hate the villagers. Hating others is wrong! I don’t hate anybody.”

“But why? They took your brother. Don’t they deserve it?” he asked, clenching his fist.

“I . . . I don’t think so,” the kid said thoughtfully. “They did very bad things, but I don’t want to do bad things too. And maybe they’re really sorry and I won’t have to fight and they’ll give my brother back!” 

Killer silently glowered Dream’s hopeful face and then down at the floor.

This . . . this didn’t make any sense to him. 

He knew Dream was stupid and naive, but he didn’t see how even he could be stupid enough to not hold a grudge against those that wronged him. After all, they took everything from him. _They took his brother_. Shouldn’t Dream be at least a little resentful? Shouldn’t he _want_ to hurt them? **Make them pay for what they did.** Why doesn’t he-

“Killer? Killer, are you okay?” 

He jolted upright at Dream’s voice.

“I- . . uh . . . ,” he fumbled for a second, before hastily coughing. “Forget it. Let’s try a different strategy.”

Walking a few yards away, Killer turned his back to Dream and said, “if you don’t wanna stab your enemy, then ya gotta catch them off guard with a surprise attack.”

“Okay! I can do that,” Dream said. 

Killer chuckled under his breath.

Just how gullible is this kid? Even Cross could be quieter than this noisy chatterbox. This was almost too easy. He was tempted to stand still and let Dream win this round on purpose, just to make things a little more interesting. Maybe he could also shut his sockets and-

“Gyah!” yelped Killer as something was whacked against his back.

Jumping around, he saw Dream standing behind him, grinning proudly. 

H-how!? How did he manage to sneak up on him like that!? Even if Dream hadn’t giggled like kids his age do and given away his position, wouldn’t he at least have heard his footsteps getting louder?

“Hehehe! You should see your face,” Dream laughed.

Killer’s stunned expression grew dark.

“I wasn’t ready,” He hissed, and pointed across the room. “Go back and wait for me to tell you to attack!”

Dream did as he was told and stood several steps away from him. That cheeky little grin irritated Killer, but he let it slide for now. He was gonna smack it off in a moment anyway. Once he was satisfied with his position, he turned back around and gripped his pole tightly.

“Now try again,” he said.

“Okay!” Dream responded eagerly.

Killer huffed, putting all of his focus into listening for Dream’s footsteps. He wouldn’t let himself get distracted by his thoughts again. Dream had just gotten a lucky break, that’s all. This time he’d be the one sca- surprising him. But as he strained his hearing for the slightest movement, he heard nothing besides his own breathing. Was Dream just standing there? Did he need to-

“OW!” He cried, kicking his leg reflexively as the pole thwacked his fibula. 

Killer swung around with his pole raised to strike, but unfortunately Dream dodged it just in time. Of course. Even as a kid, Dream was still a slippery little shit. He glared angrily at the brat who was staring with that smug smile of his.

“What the heck was that?” he yelled.

“A surprise attack!” Dream said excitedly. “Were you surprised?”

“No! You . . . you didn’t do it right. You were too close! Go stand over there by the wall,” he said, gesturing with his pole.

Dream sighed but skipped over to the spot and stood about eight feet away. Killer smirked at him. He’d like to see Dream sneak up on him now with this much distance between them. 

Turning back around, he said gruffly, “I’m ready.”

Killer shut his sockets and concentrated solely on his surroundings. There was no way the brat was going to catch him off guard him a third time! Dream may be unusually quiet, but he should still be able to sense his presence. And when he does, he’ll spin around at the last second and kick the kid into the nearest AU before he can say-

“Gotcha!”

“Oof-” Killer grunted.

Something slammed into him and the force knocked him off balance, causing him to stumble forward and fall flat onto the rough floor. He rolled onto his back and tried to stand up, but was stopped when the tiny skeleton threw himself over his chest, pushing him back to the ground. 

“I’ve defeated you now!” Dream shouted, grinning up at him.

Killer stared back wide-eyed. “But- I didn’t- how are you so good at this?”

“I gave Nightmare surprise hugs all the time,” he said happily. “Did I do it right this time, Killer?”

Killer was too shocked to answer him.

Because while maybe he didn’t have the _greatest_ eyesight in the multiverse, that didn’t mean he was _deaf!_ , dammit! In fact, his impared vision meant he depended even more on his other senses. Hardly anybody ever successfully sneaked up on him, no matter how stealthy they were.

But this wimpy kid somehow managed to catch him by surprise _three times in a row?_ It was infuriating . . . 

. . . and . . . 

. . . . maybe a little _impressive._

“I . . . I guess ya did, pipsqueak,” he grumbled, but couldn’t help grinning just a little. 

Dream’s eyelight dilated to fill his sockets. “Really? Yes, I knew I could do it!”

Ignoring his enthusiasm, Killer pushed himself up into a sitting position. But when he was about to stand, Dream lunged forward and wrapped his arms around his conveniently reachable neck. Killer froze and stared at the kid now attached to him.

“Thank you,” said Dream, tightening his hug.

Killer shook himself out of his stupor and grabbed the kid’s arms.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Killer mumbled, pulling him off and holding him out at arms length. Then giving Dream a sly smile, he added, “Here, let me show you another fighting tactic.”

In the blink of a socket, he pulled Dream close and hooked his left arm around his neck.

“This is called a headlock,” he said, rubbing his knuckles into the kid’s skull. 

“H-h-hey!” Dream whined, squirming to get out of his hold. “Killerrrrr, let goooo!” 

He chuckled. “Nope. This is what you get for shoving me, you little-”

_“Uh . . . Dream? Killer? What’s going on?_

Killer stopped and looked up. Standing in the door in front of them was a confused and nervous looking Cross. He instantly let go of Dream and scrambled to his feet, abandoning the kid on the floor. Smoothing out his clothes, he stuck in his hands in his pockets and glared the monochrome skeleton 

“What do you want, Cross?” he snapped.

To his annoyance, the younger skeleton ignored him and ran up to Dream.

“You okay there, buddy?” Cross asked, helping the kid to his feet.

“He’s fine,” said Killer, but again nobody listened.

Dream nodded and smiled. “I’m okay, Crossy! Killer was showing me how to fight!”

Cross narrowed his sockets at him. “Really, Killer? Can’t you pick on someone your own size?”

“Like you? Heh, yeah right,” he scoffed. “At least the kid can pull off a surprise attack.” 

“I don’t care, just leave Dream alone,” Cross said, pulling the perplexed Dream to his side.

Killer shrugged. “Why? It’s not like I was doing anything. Isn’t that right, squirt?”

Dream’s eyelights flickered between both of them. “I didn’t-”

“It’s okay Dream, you don’t have to answer that,” Cross said, running his thumb across one of the many scuff marks on his face. “It’s obvious he’s been bullying you.”

“B-but he-”

“The only thing obvious here is your jealousy,” Killer said, cutting Dream off.

“Pfft- what am I jealous over? Not getting to beat up a defenseless child?”

“You’re just upset that I’m the one teaching him how to fight and you’re not.”

“I said no because I didn’t want him to get hurt!”

“P-please don’t fight-”

“He wouldn’t get hurt if you weren’t reckless.”

Cross bristled at the insult. “I am not! You-” 

“Yes you are!” Killer shouted back. “You’re reckless, sloppy, impulsive, and way too cocky for someone with your level of skill.”

Cross scowled. “Oh, so you wanna talk about my skills? What about that time I took down the entire royal guard of swapfell _by myself?_ Or those times that I had to save you from dusting? What about all the fights where I beat your sorry coccyx?”

Killer grimaced at the memories of his failures, but quickly hid it behind a scornful look.

“See, you just proved my point. Taking on that many opponents alone was a dumb, irrational thing to do. I don’t know why Night- _Midnight_ allows you to fight when all you ever do is stupidly endanger yourself and us. When you screw things up, don’t blame me,” he said, crossing his arms.

Cross went silent, and Killer could’ve sworn he saw the red and white eyelights shrink a bit. But the hurt look was burned up in a flash of boiling rage. If Dream wasn’t standing beside him, Killer was sure the skeleton would have pulled out his knife.

“I- . . . I won’t screw up! I’ll show you! I’m a better fighter than you’ll ever be!” he yelled, jabbing a finger at him.

“Crossy, Killer, stop! Please!” Dream pleaded, tugging on Cross’s jacket.

Killer scowled and smacked his hand away. 

“Whatever. I’m done talking to you,” he growled and headed for the door before he did something stupid. 

“Killer, you don’t-”

 _“Drop it Cross,”_ he said, glaring over his shoulder at him. “Teach the brat how to fight or whatever. I don’t care.”

When Cross didn’t say anything, he stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Killer, come back!” Dream shouted and ran toward the door.

He skidded to a halt when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder. “It’s okay, buddy, let him go.”

Dream glanced up at Crossy. “But- but he’s upset! We gotta help him.”

“Killer will cool off eventually, don’t worry.”

“But, why is he mad?” he asked. “Is- is it because of me? Did I-”

“No, no, Dream, it’s not your fault,” said Crossy, bending down. “I’m the one he’s angry at. Heh, I’m the one he’s _always_ angry at . . .”

Dream titled his head. “Why? Did you do something wrong?” 

“I don’t really know. He’s been this way ever since I started living here. I think it’s just who he is. But I guess it doesn’t help that I fight with him a lot,” he said.

Crossy then stood up and frowned. “It’s just . . . he’s so frustrating! All he ever does is boss me around and nitpick me constantly. I wish he would, you know, treat me like all the other guys? Like an equal. But no matter what I do, he always acts like he’s better than me. The worst part is . . . he’s right. He’s always been the better fighter. And . . . and I try so hard. But it’s never enough. I’ll never be good enough for any of them, really.”

_I’ll never be good enough for any of them . . ._

The words echoed in Dream’s head, but . . . it wasn’t Cross saying them. He didn’t recognise this new, fuzzy voice. And when he tried, his head started hurting really badly again.

The older skeleton sighed, drawing Dream’s focus back to him. 

“It’s just a matter of time before I screw up and get kicked out. ‘S not like I’m not used to being alone, but . . .” Crossy stopped.

He looked down at him and rubbed his neck. “Uh . . . heh heh, sorry, got a bit carried away there. What were we- oh right! Fighting. Did you want to-”

Dream interrupted him and gave his sad friend the biggest, bestest hug he could. 

“I think you’re really good, Crossy,” he said, his voice muffled by the other’s clothes.

Dream felt a hand pat him on the head. “Heh. Thanks, buddy. I’m glad at least someone thinks so.”

“I bet Killer thinks so too!” he said, smiling up at Crossy.

“Um, I don’t know about that . . .”

“Then you should go ask him!”

“Dream, buddy, it’s not . . . I can’t just walk up to him and ask that.”

“Why not?”

“Because Killer isn’t exactly someone you can just _talk_ to.”

“But I talk to him all the time. It’s easy!”

“Pfft- yeah, I bet it is.”

“Can’t you try to talk to him?”

Crossy shrugged. “I . . . guess I could. But I don’t think-”

“-Yay! I’ll go tell Killer, Be right back!” said Dream, pulling away and sprinting for the door.

“Wait- what? No, Dream, don’t,” Crossy yelled.

But Dream didn’t hear him finish; he was already out of the room and sprinting down the hallway. 

When Crossy didn’t come after him, he slowed his run to a skip and made his way up the stairs toward Killer’s room. He finally came to the door with a “GO AWAY” written on a sticky note and stood in front of it. He could hear loud thumping noises and muffled mumbling sounds coming from inside. He knew that had to be Killer.

Still, he hesitated for a moment. Killer could be really scary and mean when he was angry, and he was _really_ angry right now. But that’s why Dream had to talk to him. Killer was angry because he was upset about something, and Dream needed to help him. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he would do whatever he could to help make things better. 

So Dream smiled, took a deep breath, and knocked on his door.

______________________________________________________________________

**THUNK**

_Stupid!_

**THUNK**

_Fucking!_

**THUNK**

_Idiot!_

**THUNK**

The knife slightly vibrated from the impact, eventually stopping and going still like the several knives around it. Killer’s dripping black sockets bore holes into the back of his door. He curled his empty fists, his hunched shoulders rising and falling as he breathed heavily. Not from exertion, but from the rage simmering inside of him. He’d tried to take some of that fury out on his door, but it didn’t help. He still felt so _angry._

Angry at Cross 

Angry at what he said.

Angry at **himself** and what **he** had said to Cross.

Well, not _everything_ he said. Cross really was too brash and bold at times, and he made a lot of risky decisions. But when it came down to it, Cross was a good fighter. A _really_ good fighter. Of course he was- he’d had actual training with a weapon. Although he didn’t always use said training, it still gave him an advantage that Killer didn’t have.

And it scared him.

It scared him that Cross really _was_ better at fighting than him. That all the times Cross saved him from dusting or beat his coccyx was because he was losing his edge. That one day, Cross would be so much better than him, that they wouldn’t need him anymore. He’d just be dead weight. And in a dangerous gang known for destroying entire AUs, being dead weight is a liability.

But Killer would rather dust before he let himself become that. He was the first to join Nightmare. He had _earned_ his current role in their gang. And he wasn’t about to let anyone take it from him, no matter how good of a fighter they really were. He would make sure Cross got that through his thick, empty skull no matter what-

**KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK**

“Killer? It’s me, Dream!” said a high pitched voice on the other side of his door. 

Killer raised a brow bone.

What the hell was Dream doing here? Shouldn’t he be fighting with Cross right now? He was confused, but not curious enough to find out. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to the nosy brat. 

So instead he growled, “Dust off!”

“Can I come inside please? I wanna talk to you,” Dream replied.

Killer sat on the floor next to his bed, leaning his back against the covers and crossing his legs.

“I don’t give a- . . . _ugh._ Go bother someone else,” he grumbled, pulling his hood over his skull.

He listened for the sound of footsteps scurrying away, but for a moment, all he heard was silence. Then, slowly but surely, there was the subtle click of the handle and the quiet creaking of his door being opened. He bit back a curse and narrowed his sockets at the child peeking his head into his room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he spat.

Dream stepped through the door and shut it behind him. “You didn’t say no.”

 _“Leave now_ . . .” said Killer darkly, pulling a knife from his jacket and pointing it at him. **_“ . . . unless you want to get hurt.”_**

While he wasn’t planning on carrying out his threat, he didn’t trust himself to physically remove the kid and hoped intimidating him would do the trick.

“I just wanna talk to you . . .” Dream said meekly, shrinking into himself, but staying where he was.

Killer dropped his bluff and eyed him suspiciously. “Did Cross put you up to this?”

“Nuh uh,” the kid answered truthfully.

“Well, say what you want and go,” he said curtly, putting away his knife. 

Dream took a few steps forward cautiously. “I wanna know what’s wrong.”

“Why do you care?” Killer sneered.

“Because you’re upset,” he said, sitting down. 

Killer stared at him, unsure what to say.

Why did Dream care if he was upset? Over the past three weeks, Killer had done nothing to the kid besides scaring him, picking on him, or just ignoring him. Yet here Dream was, looking up at him with genuine concern in his little eyelights. Killer thought back to what Dream said earlier, about how he didn’t hate anybody. Guess that applied to him too.

Killer pulled his hood down, rubbing a hand over his skull.

“I’m fine . . . don’t worry about me,” he said softly.

Dream scooted a little closer and asked, “did Crossy say something that made you upset?”

“Nah, his words don’t have any affect on me,” said Killer coldly. 

“Oh . . . well, I think you really hurt Crossy’s feelings.”

Dream’s words dug up the image of Cross’s pained face in his mind, making him wince. 

“I did, huh?” he said bitterly.

“Yep,” Dream said firmly. “And he wants to talk to you, but he says you won’t talk to him.”

“Why should I waste my time talking to him when we’re just gonna have the same old argument?” Killer asked, leaning his head on his hand.

Dream frowned. “Because talking is how you make things better.”

“Yeah, no, that’s not always true-”

“-Yes it is!” Dream shouted. “When something is wrong, you’re supposed to tell them so that they can make it right! But if they don’t know what’s wrong, then how are they gonna fix things?” 

He paused and looked at the floor, rubbing a socket with his palm. 

“I . . . Nighty didn’t like talking to me either, but I wanted him too. I wanted to help him. B-but he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. It . . It made me upset t-too,” he whispered.

Killer glanced awkwardly away from the kid. 

“I get it, Dream, but I don’t think Cross would listen to me even if I tried talking with him,” he said quietly.

“He will! I promise!” Dream shouted adamanty.

“How do you know?”

“Because Crossy’s waiting in the training room for you right now.”

Killer shot him a look. “Seriously?”

“Yep!” Dream nodded. The kid placed a hand on his knee and stared at him with hopeful eyelights. “So . . . will you go talk to him?”

Killer hesitated, but after a second, he sighed. 

“Alright, fine. If he’s still in there, I’ll do it,” he said, confident that Cross was nowhere near the training room by now.

“Pinky promise?” the kid asked, holding up his tiny finger.

Killer wrapped his digit around it and smirked. “Pinky promise.”

“Yay!” Dream cheered, jumping up. He grabbed his hand and started to pull on it. “Hurry, let’s go!”

Killer struggled to his feet, only for the little twerp to yank him forward, almost making him fall.

“Hey, watch it,” he said sternly, but didn’t yank his hand out of Dream’s grip this time.

The kid tugged Killer out of the room and down the hall, skipping and chattering as he did so. It was annoying, but by now he was kinda used to it. In fact, it reminded him of something . . . or someone . . . but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He smiled amusedly as they walked, but once the training room came into view, his face fell a bit and he stopped. 

“Come on,” Dream urged him, letting go of his hand and running through the door without him.

Despite having second thoughts about doing this, he swallowed hard and followed after the kid.

“Crosssyyyyy, I’m back!” Dream sang.

Cross looked up from where he was leaning against the wall to see Dream running into the room. Just as he suspected, he didn’t see Killer with him. He smiled pitifully and shook his head. Well, at least now he and Dream could focus on training. Taking a few steps forward, he stood next to Dream and patted the child’s head comfortingly.

“Sorry Dream, but I told you, you can’t get-

A figure suddenly walked into the room and he glanced up, his sockets going wide.

“- Killer!?” 

“Hey . . .” he greeted, giving him a half-hearted wave.

Cross looked at both skeletons and frowned, snatching his hand away. “What are you doing here? Is this some sort of prank?” he asked them.

“Nope! Killer said he wants to talk to you too!” Dream piped up.

“I didn’t-”

“He did!?” Cross asked in disbelief before Killer could continue.

This _had_ to be a joke, right? There was no way Killer came in here of his own free will to talk to him. But as Cross stared confusedly at Killer, watching him shift in place and avoid his gaze, he started to doubt his assumption.

“I . . . t-this is stupid,” Killer sputtered. “I changed my mind.”

But before he could walk away or teleport somewhere else, Dream stopped him and grabbed his hand.

“But you pinky promised?” he said with his big, sad eyelights.

“Yeah, Killer. Everybody knows you can’t break a pinky promise,” Cross snickered. 

He’d tried not to, but the idea of Killer making a pinky promise, to _Dream_ of all monsters, sounded so absurd that it slipped out. 

Killer scowled at him and quietly mumbled, “I’ll break your neck . . .” 

“What was that?” he asked teasingly.

Killer folded his arms. “I said, you go first. If you have something to say to me, then say it.”

“W-well, uh . . .” Cross faltered.

He hadn’t expected to be asked that. He hadn’t expected he’d be having this conversation _at all!_ And now he had two skeletons staring at him and waiting for an answer. Since he couldn’t think of a way to escape the situation, he decided to go the easiest route and blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“All I was gonna say is I’d like it if you’d stop being a jerk to me all the time,” he huffed.

“Sure, if you’ll stop being an immature idiot all the time,” said Killer sarcastically.

It was a comment Cross had heard over a hundred times. One that he usually brushed off. But right now, all it did was bring back all of his pent up anger. He knew he shouldn’t let it get to him. That he should just drop it. But after his conversation with Dream, for once Cross didn’t feel like dropping it. 

Instead, he stepped forward and said in a low voice, “why do you do that?”

“Do what?” Killer asked. 

“Act like I’m stupid? Like I can’t do anything right?”

Before Killer could answer, he continued, “ _I know_ I’m impulsive, okay? _I know_ I get in trouble sometimes. But I’m not as dumb as you say I am! And I’m really trying to be better. But you don’t care. You only notice when I do something wrong!”

Cross frowned at the floor, ignoring his trembling fists. “I . . . I don’t understand. What does it take for me to earn your respect?”

“You . . . want my respect?” said Killer, sounding surprised.

Cross looked up. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“But- I thought . . . don’t you hate me?” 

“What? I don’t hate you? I never have. I mean, sure, you annoy me all the time, but . . . when you’re not being a bossy jerk, you’re not that bad,” he said, squeezing his arm.

After a pause, he added, “and . . . I admit you’re . . . you’re much more . . . . _experienced_ at fighting than me . . .” 

Cross looked away again, not wanting to see the smug smile on Killer’s face. There was no way the other was going to pass up a chance to gloat at what he said. Killer hadn’t even said anything yet and he was already regretting his weak moment of honesty. This is why he preferred fighting instead of talking. Maybe it wasn’t too late to-

“I- I didn’t mean it.”

Cross blinked and glanced back at Killer. “Huh?”

“What I said earlier . . . about you,” he clarified. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re still a hothead and you make a lot of rookie mistakes, but . . . you’re not a complete screw up. You’ve . . . you’ve got potential. And I have seen some . . . _minor improvements_ lately.”

Killer stared at his feet. “You never know. Maybe one day . . . with enough practice . . . you could become a really great fighter. _Maybe even better than me.”_

The last sentence was barely audible that Cross almost missed it. 

But he didn’t.

“R-really?”

“I said maybe!” Killer snapped.

“Yeah, but, why haven’t you told me any of this before?” he asked. If Killer really thought he had potential, then why did he always treat him like he’d never amount to anything?

“Tch’ . . . like you need a boost for your dumb ego- HEY! What gives?” yelled Killer. 

Cross looked along with Killer at the small child frowning up at him. Dream didn’t say anything, but he didn’t really need to. He would have chuckled at Killer getting scolded by a babybones, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. He wanted answers.

“Is there any other reason besides your concern for my ego?” he said slowly.

Killer scoffed. “I mean . . . I dunno. It just bothers me, okay? There, I said it. Happy now?”

Cross furrowed his brow.

It bothers him?

Why would him being a better fighter than Killer bother him? 

Why would he care-

Oh. 

_Oh . . ._

“Are . . . you worried I’m going to take your place or something?” he guessed.

“N-no! Why would you think that? I never said anything about being replaced!” Killer growled, but it came out more like a croak.

Cross shouted back, “Well why else would it bother you?”

“I don’t know!”

The room fell silent for a moment, until Cross broke it with a sigh. 

“Look, for what it’s worth, I’m not trying to replace you. Heh, I don’t think anyone could. All I want is to be good enough for you guys. To . . . I don’t know . . . prove I’m worth keeping around . . .”

“Uh, why wouldn’t we keep you around?” Killer asked.

Cross hugged his arms. “You said it yourself. I’m eventually gonna screw it all up.” 

“So? What, you think we’re gonna throw you out if you do?” he scowled.

Cross looked ashamedly at the floor. “Well . . . wouldn’t you?” 

“No, you idiot! You’re stuck with us. And if you think screwing up will change that, then you really are a numbskull,” said Killer, punching him in the arm.

“Ah!” he yelped, rubbing the now sore spot, before giving him a cheeky smile. “Heh, is that a pinky promise?”

“I’ll dust your pinky if you bring that up one more time,” he threatened. 

Cross rolled his eyelights. “Okay, okay . . . but uh . . . thanks.”

Killer looked like he was about to say something back, but was distracted when Dream walked in between them. 

“I told you talking makes everything better!” he said, standing proudly with his hands on his hips.

Cross laughed at the adorable display, feeling any awkward tension left in the room disappear.

Killer coughed. “Yeah, well, enough talking. Let’s get back to fighting. What do ya say, Cross? Wanna show the pipsqueak how it’s done?”

Cross smirked and stepped back, summoning his hack knife, “You bet. I’ll show him what a real winner looks like.”

“Heh, yeah, with his coccyx on the floor,” Killer chuckled, pulling out two knives of his own.

“Just like you earlier?” Cross taunted, before glancing over at Dream.

Thankfully the kid had the right idea and backed up next to the door. He was watching them with those cute little star shaped eyelights he got when he was excited. Satisfied that Dream was out of harm's way now (probably), he turned his attention back to Killer. But when he looked, he was gone. 

“I was simply showing what happens to losers like you,” a smug voice behind him said.

In a split second, Cross dashed forward, narrowly avoiding the knife that swiped at him.

He twisted around and smirked, “nice try, but you’ll have to do better than that.”

“Laugh it up, twinkle toes,” said Killer, also smirking.

Cross circled around him and Killer did the same, both of them waiting for the other to strike first. Since the other had already taken his shot, Cross decided it was his turn now. He charged at Killer, giving him plenty of time to react, but when their blades met Cross managed to overpower his and pushed him off his feet.

Killer caught his balance at the last second and dodged the follow up blow from his hack knife. The small steel knives swung at him, but he blocked the attack with little difficulty. Cross mimicked Killer’s trick and teleported behind him, hoping he’d be fast enough to get to him before the skeleton could twist around. But when Cross re-appeared, Killer was already facing him and blocked his weapon mid-swing. Killer shoved him back and chuckled.

Like, _actually chuckled._

Not in the arrogant or mocking way that Cross was used to, but with actual humour in his laugh.

And that’s when he realised . . . Killer was having _fun._

The thought surprised him so much, that he almost didn’t block the next swing at him, only dodging it at the last second. And for once, Killer didn’t call him out or belittle him for his distracted state. Cross nearly failed to block his attack again because of that. He finally managed to regain his focus and fought back with jabs of his own, but in the back of his mind he thought about how strange this all was. 

Not that them fighting was strange- they fought often and usually for petty reasons. But whatever the cause was, they were always at each other’s vertebrae for it. He couldn’t remember a time he fought Killer and didn’t want to knock his teeth in. But right now he wasn’t furious at all. And while Killer’s attacks were still precise and, well, _passionate_ , there wasn’t any spiteful intent behind them.

In fact, this fight felt less like one of their spats and more like one of the good-natured spars he’d have with Dust on occasion. 

And Cross liked it.

Sure, he didn’t really mind their more heated fights. It was a way to work off all the rage without having to actually _work_ through whatever issue fueled it. But . . . maybe this talking thing wasn’t that bad? It felt good venting to Dream, and now that he’d cleared some things up with Killer, he felt even better. Maybe they could do this more often? Talk about the problem and then spar afterwards just for the fun of it?

If Killer’s laid back smile was anything to go by, Cross felt the chances of them doing this again were fairly decent.

He smiled a little bit himself, even as Killer nicked his arm. It was just a scratch anyway. He ignored it and swung back at Killer, catching his hoodie and sending him flying backwards. The other quickly recovered and was back to trading blows. They both swung and dodged back and forth, only landing a hit or two. Cross wasn’t certain how long they had been fighting, but he could feel sweat dripping down his brow.

As their knives clashed again, Killer pressed against him and sneered, “Give up yet?”

“Why should I when I’m winning?” Cross retorted, forcing him back, his blade almost touching the other’s jacket.

Killer jumped to the side, sending Cross staggering forward. “You sure about that?”

Cross felt something prick his spine and quickly turned around, knocking the knife off. He started to say something, but stopped when he heard footsteps and looked over his shoulder. They both froze as Nightmare casually strolled into the room.

“Oh good, I thought you might be in here,” he said, standing in front of his boys. “I need you to stop fighting and come with me, Killer.”

The black-eyed skeleton shrugged and put his knives away. “K boss. This one’s a draw, but I expect a rematch later.”

“Sure, if you don’t chicken out first,” said Cross, letting his blade fizzle out.

Killer chuckled, “you wish.”

Nightmare raised a brow bone at the interaction.

He’d noticed something was off when he’d walked in here, but now that he was looking at their smiles up close and listening to their friendly banter, it finally dawned on him what it was. He couldn’t feel any of their usual animosity towards each other. Even Killer’s typical aura of anger was radiating less energy than normal. 

“You’re both in a good mood today,” he commented, studying their reactions.

“Heh, guess so,” said Killer, scratching his jaw.

Cross chuckled nervously. “Yeah, you can blame Dream for that.”

“Dream?” Nightmare asked, his eyelight flaring. “What was he doing in here? I thought I made it clear this room was _off limits.”_

Both of them wouldn’t meet his gaze and glanced intensely behind him, like they were staring at something.

Killer spoke up first, but he still wasn’t looking at him. “Well, I was teaching the kid how to-

Nightmare suddenly felt a creeping sensation up his spine, but it was a moment too late. Before he could react, something grabbed a tentacle, yanking him backwards. It caught him so off guard that he lost his footing. He grunted as his skull collided with the floor.

“-do that,” Killer finished. 

Sitting upright, Nightmare gingerly rubbed his skull and squinted at the spinning room. He felt a little sore, but the fall hurt his pride more than it did his tail bone. After the dizziness dissipated, he glared at whoever had thought sneaking up on him and doing that was a good idea. But his socket widened when he saw his brother standing next to him. 

“Haha, yes! I did it again! Did you see that, Crossy?” Dream squealed.

Cross was bent over, practically in tears as he laughed, “He-h-heh heh, y-yeah, I did! G-good job, buddy!”

Nightmare smirked mischievously at Dream. 

_Two can play at this game brother._

“Alright, now it’s my turn,” he said out loud, wrapping a tentacle around his leg and hoisting him upside down.

“Woah!” squeaked Dream, flailing his arms.

Nightmare stood up and crossed his arms while his brother dangled helplessly in the air. He forgot how easy it was to hold him now that he was small. He assumed his brother would get annoyed and demand to be put down. But instead Dream giggled with delight.

“Weeeeeeee!” he laughed as the tentacle swung him side to side.

Nightmare’s eyelight blurred as the sight brought to mind an old memory. One with Dream hanging upside down from the branches of their Tree and laughing while he swung carelessly above the ground. It was such a fond memory that he couldn’t help the smile growing on his face.

“Of course you think it’s fun,” he muttered to himself.

“I don’t think he’s the only one enjoying this,” teased Killer.

Nightmare immediately dropped his smile and rolled his eyelight. 

“Alright, no more playing around,” he said sternly, curling another tendril around Dream’s waist and setting him upright on the ground.

“Awww, but that was fun!” Dream whined, reaching for the tentacles as they slithered away.

Cross walked up to him and patted him consolingly. “It’s okay, we can have fun by fighting now. You ready?”

“Yes!” he said, pumping the air with his fists.

“Let’s go,” Nightmare said and headed for the door, anxious to leave before anything embarrassing happened again.

“Right behind you,” said Killer, starting to follow him, but was stopped by a tackle hug from Dream.

“Bye Kiki! Thanks for teaching me how to do a surprise attack!” his brother said.

 _”KIKI!?”_ Killer shrieked. “W-what the- you’re not call- OUCH!” 

Nightmare slapped him on the back of the skull before he finished. He met Killer’s glare with one of his own, tapping his foot steadily. Killer stopped rubbing the spot he hit and sighed, sagging his shoulders in defeat.

“Fine, whatever. Later, squirt,” he grumbled, shoving Dream off him.

Nightmare didn’t say a word as Killer stormed past him, but he didn’t have to. He knew Killer could see the amused smile on his face even without his eyelights. Using a tentacle, he grabbed the handle and shut the door behind him, cutting off the enthusiastic shouts from his brother. But as he walked down the hall, he could still hear Dream’s laughter ringing in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Alternate summary:** Killer and Cross are both big boneheads and it takes having an eight year old intervene for them to acutally talk to each other for once.
> 
> Sooooo this chapter took longer than expected. ^^; Partly because it endded up being 8,000+ words and partly because getting two emotionally compromised skeletons to talk about their feelings without coming across as forced is much harder to write than I orginally thought. But I did my best and overall I'm pretty content with the result. I hope you guys enjoy this one as well!
> 
> I know there's a lot in this chapter, but any and all feedback you guys can spare is very much appreciated! 
> 
> And feel free to check out my [tumblr](https://calcium-cat.tumblr.com/) where I post OSD related art along with other Undertale content!


	8. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare and the gang leave Dream alone at the hideout for a bit. In hindsight, they should have got him a babysitter.

“Got any eights?” said Dusty.

Rory looked at his cards. “Nope . . . go fish . . .” 

Dream leaned forward and watched Dusty pull a card from the pile in front of them. He stared at it silently for a moment and then added it to the cards in his hands. Dusty didn’t look disappointed, but Dream was still sad he didn’t get the card he wanted.

“Ya got a jack, pipsqueak?” asked Kiki.

Dream glanced at the cards he was holding. He saw a red seven and four and a black six and . . . he thinks this is a queen? But he didn’t see any jacks. He looked up at Kiki and shook his head.

“Nu uh, go fish!” he said. 

Kiki went to pick up his new card and Dream wished really hard that it would be a jack. But when Kiki looked at it, he frowned even more. He added the not-a-jack to his cards and rested his chin on his hand with a sigh.

“Okay, my turn!” said Crossy, his mismatched eyelights looking from one skeleton to the next.

“Say Killer . . . you wouldn’t happen to have a jack, would you?” he asked.

Kiki sat up straight and looked angrily at him. “Dammit, Cross!”

“Aw, don’t be a sore loser,” Crossy said, wiggling his brow bones.

“Just shut up n’ take ‘em,” Kiki grumbled and threw him the three jacks he had.

“Thank you,” he said, which was nice of him, and grabbed the cards.

After he put down all four jacks on the floor, he looked at his two remaining cards and then at Rory. 

“Do you have any threes?” he asked.

Rory checked his cards, looked up at Crossy, and then checked his cards again. 

“Well?” Kiki said kinda rudely. 

“Mmm . . . yeah . . . I do . . .” Rory nodded.

He handed Crossy his two cards which Crossy snatched away from him. Then he placed all of his cards onto the floor with the others.

Holding up his empty hands, he shouted, “I won!”

“Awwww,” Dream whined, throwing his cards to the side and lying his head sadly on the rug they were sitting on.

“Lucky . . .” Rory mumbled.

Dusty picked up his paper and started writing on it. “Okay, that’s four wins for Cross. Dream still has two, and Horror and I both have one.”

Kiki threw his cards down on the ground and crossed his arms. Rory scooted them into the big pile and picked all of the cards up. Dream stared mesmerized at him as he began doing the “shuffling” thing and made the cards move super fast in his hands.

“I knew it, you’re cheating! There’s no way you won four times in a row,” said Kiki.

Crossy set the cookie plate in his lap and picked one up. “Being better at this game than you doesn’t mean I’m cheating.”

Dream watched hungrily as Crossy then took a bite of the delicious snickerdoodle.

“Can I have one please?” he asked politely, pushing himself off the floor and sitting on his knees.

Crossy held his cookie between his teeth and handed him one. “Here ya’ ‘o” he said.

Dream grabbed the snickerdoodle and started to happily munch on it. It wasn’t as warm as it was earlier, but it still tasted amazing! Of course, Dream knew it would, since he had helped Rory make them. He even got to wear his own yellow apron with “Little Chef” painted on it.

“Tch’, pushover. Cookies are for winners,” said Kiki.

“Is that why you haven’t had any yet?” Cross asked playfully.

But that only made Kiki frown even more. “Well if he gets one, then I do too.”

He reached his arm across their circle, almost bumping into Rory who was giving them all new cards, and tried to grab a cookie from the plate. But Cross smacked his hand away and held the plate over his head where Kiki couldn’t touch it.

“Now who’s cheating?”

Kiki growled. “Give ‘em here, Cross!” 

He lunged forward, messing up all of the little card piles Rory had made. Dream scooted away as Kiki toppled Cross to the ground. The cookies were knocked out of his hand and into the air, and Dream was worried that they were all going to fall and get ruined. But then Dust saved them with his super cool magic and put them back on the plate. Dream went back to finishing his cookie as watched Crossy and Kiki wrestle and play on the floor. 

“What are you all doing?” a deep voice asked, making Crossy and Kiki freeze.

Dream looked up along with the rest of his friends to see Midnight standing in the door with his arms crossed and his tentacles waving behind him. He looked grumpy, but Dream knew by now that grumpy was normal for the goopy skeleton. Dream smiled up at him and waved.

“Hi, Midnight! We’re playing a game,” he said. 

Midnight didn’t wave back and looked at the cards scattered on the rug. “You aren’t playing what I think you’re playing, right?” 

Kiki crawled off of Crossy and stood up. “Nah, we were just playing ‘Go Fish’.” 

“Wanna join?” said Crossy.

“Yeah, Midnight, come play with us! Please!” Dream added, hoping he wasn’t too busy again.

But his hopes were crushed when Midnight shook his head. “I can’t. In fact, I actually need you boys to stop and help me . . . run some _errands._ ”

“Wow, we ran outta food that fast?” Kiki asked.

“I’m afraid so. It doesn’t help that Horror’s been doing all this extra baking lately,” he said, looking at the cookie plate.

Rory didn’t say anything and just kept on picking up all the cards. He put them all in a neat stack and placed them in his pocket before standing next to Kiki. Dusty also got up and walked over to Midnight.

“When do you wanna leave?” he asked him.

“Right now,” said Midnight.

Crossy got up and smoothed out his scarf. “Well I’m ready to go!”

Dream looked curiously at the tall skeletons around him. It sounded like they were all going somewhere, but what about him? Dream wanted to go with them too and have a super fun adventure! He scrambled to his feet and bounced excitedly on his tippy toes.

“I’m ready to go too!” he said.

Midnight frowned. “No Dream, you’re staying here.”

Dream’s smile fell and he stopped jumping. “But- but I want to-”

“I don’t care,” he said sternly. “Cross, take him to his room.”

“Wait, but I don’t-”

“Come on, buddy,” said Crossy, scooping him off the floor and holding him.

The older skeleton hugged him close, which Dream would have liked if he wasn’t upset about not getting to go. Still, he clung to Crossy and closed his sockets right as he felt the magic buzz in his ear canals. When the buzzing went away, he looked around and saw he was in his room. Teleporting made him dizzy, but just for a few seconds and by the time Crossy put him down, he felt okay again. 

Crossy patted his head. “Alright, now you play in here while we-”

“But I don’t wanna play in my room,” Dream said, grabbing his hand and looking up at him. “I wanna go with you guys! Please can I go? Please? I promise I’ll be good!”

“Sorry buddy, but Midnight said no.”

“But why? Why can’t I go? It’s not fair!”

“I get that, but it’s not safe for you where we’re going. You gotta hang out here, okay? We’ll be back before you know it.”

Dream let go of his hand and looked at the floor. “Okay . . .”

“Look Dream, I gotcha a little something to cheer you up,” said Crossy, pulling a snickerdoodle out of his jacket hood.

“Thanks . . .” he said, taking the cookie.

Crossy nodded. “No problem. Now just stay in your room and have fun. We’ll be right back.”

The buzzing sound came back and a second later both Crossy and the noise disappeared. Dream sighed and walked over to his bed. He pulled himself onto it, swung his legs over the side, and started eating his snickerdoodle. But the treat didn’t make Dream feel any better. He set the half-eaten cookie on his bed and rubbed crumbs off his face.

“It’s not fair,” he mumbled, falling onto his pillow and staring up at his ceiling.

Just because they were all bigger and stronger than him, didn’t mean he had to stay behind. He isn’t a weak and helpless babybones- He’s a guardian! So what if the place they were going to wasn’t safe? Dream wasn’t scared. He could take care of himself. Plus, Kiki said he’s getting really good at fighting.

But nobody listened to him! And now all his friends were going somewhere without him, while he was in his boring room because Midnight was being a meanie and wouldn’t let him go. Dream crossed his arms and huffed. He was going to wait right here forever and ever, and when the guys came back and saw that he was dust, then they’d all feel really bad for leaving him behind. 

So he waited.

And waited.

And waited. 

And waited.

And . . . now he was really, really _bored._

Dream glanced over at his still shut door. 

Had it been forever yet? Doing nothing for forever and ever wasn’t very fun. He looked over at the toys and craft supplies on his floor. Maybe he should play with something while he waits for them to come back? That would be more fun than counting the cracks in the wall. Scooting off his bed, Dream walked across the room and sat down next to his paper and crayons.

Reaching into the box, he picked out a bright green crayon and scribbled really fast to make the grass. He did the same with the light blue for the sky. Then using the brown and green, he drew their Tree on top of the hill. On the right side, he used a yellow one to draw himself and on the left side, he drew his brother with the purple crayon. 

Once Dream finished, he stuck the crayon in his mouth and chewed on it as he looked at his picture. It didn’t look _exactly_ like the way he remembered, but he didn’t care. He was still very proud of his drawing. He picked it up and ran to the door to go show his friends.

As Dream walked out of his room, he cupped his hands and yelled “Guys? Guys where are you?”

But nobody answered him. 

Dream shut his door behind him and skipped down the hall to go look for them. He peeked inside all of the bedrooms, but aside from Cyanide sleeping in his metal house, he didn’t see anybody. Dream frowned and checked the kitchen, but it was empty too. He nervously walked into the TV room, hoping he’d find them in there, but it was just as quiet and empty as everywhere else.

Dream looked around the room confused. 

Why wasn’t anybody here? Crossy had said they would be back soon. But Dream didn’t know _when_ “soon” was or how long they had been gone already. Was it a few minutes? An hour? Maybe even five hours! But what was taking them so long? Crossy told him the place they went too wasn’t safe. Did they get hurt? Are they okay? Are they ever gonna come back home or . . .

Dream glanced down at the drawing he was holding, but everything was all blurry now.

Or . . . are they gone too?

Dream sniffed and felt something wet roll down his cheek. 

When he heard it plop onto the paper in his hand, he sniffed again and rubbed his face with the back of his glove. He didn’t want to mess up his picture before the others guys saw it. Setting it on the couch for safe keeping, Dream sat down on the floor beside it and pulled his knees to his chest. 

Since the guys would probably come in this room when they got back, all Dream had to do was sit here and wait. 

So he waited.

And waited.

And waited . .

And waited . . .

And waited . . . .

But nothing happened. 

He sat perfectly still so he could hear the sound of a portal opening, but all he heard was silence. 

Dream didn’t like silence. He was used to hearing chirping birds and whizzing insects and the cracking of branches as the wind blew through their leaves. But he couldn’t hear any of that familiar noise inside. Dream wished he was outside. He wished that he was back home. That he was sitting under their Tree with Nightmare again. 

Dream squeezed his sockets shut and tried to imagine he was there.

He could see it all so clearly. The cloudless, blue sky. The apples waving above them. The green valley below. He could feel the sunlight on his bones and the warm breeze on his face. He could hear the sound of birds singing to each other. And he could feel Nightmare sitting behind him with his arms wrapped around him, like he did whenever he would tell him a story.

Dream thought about the last story he heard from his brother. Was it the one about a magical explorer? He tried hard to remember, but his head was getting all fuzzy again. It really hurt, so he stopped and opened his eyes. His smile fell when he saw that he was still sitting on the couch. And it wasn’t Nighty’s arms that were hugging him, but his own.

He shivered, but he wasn’t cold on the outside. He was cold on the _inside_. He didn’t notice it much when his friends were with him, but when he was in his bed at night, the cold feeling would come and make him feel sad and empty. Like he felt right now. Dream wanted someone to hug him. To hold him and make the sad, empty feeling go away. But when he looked up, there was no one around.

He was all by himself in this big, quiet castle. 

_Alone._

Dream didn’t like being alone. 

N-not that being alone scared him. Dream wasn’t scared of anything! But being alone and not knowing where his friends were or what happened to them, did make him a little bit _worried._ Dream was certain something bad must have happened. Why else had they not come back yet? He needed to go find his friends and help them. Then he wouldn’t be alone anymore and everything would be okay.

Dream stood up, ready to go looking, but hesitated when he realised he didn’t know where to start.

He couldn’t make the black portals or square portals like they did. He didn’t know how. So how could he find them then? Dream puzzled for a moment, but the only option he could think of was to look outside the castle. Midnight had said he wasn’t allowed to go by himself, but if found them, then he wouldn’t be by himself anymore! Dream chuckled at his very smart thinking and ran out of the TV room, leaving his picture behind on the couch. 

He found the spare room he remembered having a window in it and walked inside. It was dusty with some old boxes in it. Dream found the smallest crate, shoved it underneath the window, and then got on top. He pressed his face to the dirty glace and looked out, hoping he would see his friends. But all he could see was the cloudy sky and a bunch of tall, dark trees.

Dream sighed sadly, but then shook the sad thoughts from his head and looked up at the latch on the window frame. He used all his strength to lift it, and after a few tries, it finally popped free. Dream pushed his hands against the glass and the window flew open with a loud creak. He smiled proudly at his success, when suddenly a bunch of dirt flew in his face, making him cough and sneeze.

Once he stopped coughing, Dream rubbed his watering sockets and clambered onto the ledge. He kept his eyelights focused on the tree standing in front of him instead of the ground below. It was a bit of a jump, but Dream was a very good jumper, and easily he leapt onto the closest branch. Then very carefully, he started to crawl down the tree. His cape got stuck on the sticks twice, but he made it to the bottom with it in one piece and landed safely onto the grass. 

“Yes, I did it! I made it outside!” Dream cried triumphantly, throwing his hands in the air.

Slowly, he dropped his arms and looked around.

“Now where do I go?” he asked himself. 

All he could see were more trees. Dream tilted his head up at the castle behind him. Maybe if he walked around the front, he would find a path that would take him to where the guys were? It sounded like a smart idea to him. So Dream started his march along the wall, avoiding all the thick shrubbery so his cape wouldn’t get scratched up.

Even though he couldn't feel the sun or hear any birds, Dream was very happy to be outside again. He had missed the feeling of the earth under his feet. And the wind, even though it was chilly, felt really nice on his face. He was tempted to play out here for a bit, but he had a mission to accomplish first.  
Dream rounded the corner, finally spotting two big front doors and running toward the steps leading up to them.

He looked around and shouted, “Hello? Hellooooooo?” 

But Dream didn’t see anyone. He didn’t see a path either. Just tall grass that lead into more and more trees that disappeared into the fog.

“M-midnight? Crossy? Rory? Kiki? Dusty? Are you guys out here?” he called, hoping he’d hear _something_ this time.

But the only sound was that of the branches swaying in the wind. 

Dream gazed at the forest in front of him and whimpered, clutching the edge of his cape to his chest. It didn’t look very safe. So this _had_ to be the place Crossy said they went to. But the trees were so much bigger and darker than the woods at home. He had no idea how he could find them. Dream turned and looked up at the castle. Maybe he should go back inside and wait for them.

He took a few steps toward the doors, but then stopped and gripped his cape tightly. 

No . . . he . . . he couldn’t go inside yet. N̶i̶g̶h̶t̶y The guys were counting on him to help them. Dream needed to be brave, even if he didn’t like the thought of going into the big, scary forest all by himself. Dream wasn’t going to give up now. N̶i̶g̶h̶t̶y They could be hurt! He had to find h̶i̶m them! 

Dream faced the forest again. Maybe if he walked into it and yelled loudly enough, then the guys would hear and come to him. That way he wouldn’t have to go far. He would just walk into the forest a little bit, and if he couldn’t find them, then he would v̶e̶r̶y̶ ̶q̶u̶i̶c̶k̶l̶y go back to the castle. He nodded to himself, quite pleased with his super smart and impressive plan. 

Dream held his head high and walked into the foggy shadows, cupping his hands and calling their names as loudly as he could.

He was going to find them any minute now.

Right?

___________________________________________________________________

An inky black portal swirled to life inside of the TV room. Horror stumbled through it first, panting heavily as he hugged his burlap sack in his arms. Dust sauntered through next right as a panicked Cross raced past him. Killer skidded into the room after the other skeleton and looked anxiously behind him. But his fears vanished when Nightmare walked through a moment later and closed the portal. 

“Everyone alright?” he asked, setting down the burlap sack in his tentacle.

Horor gave him a thumbs up, while Cross flopped onto the couch.

“Well that was close,” the monochrome skeleton sighed, wiping his forehead.

“It was _way too_ close. You were supposed to be watching her Dust!” said Killer.

The other’s perma smile tightened just a little. “How was I supposed to know she had a ink pen in her pocket?”

Killer crossed his arms. “That doesn’t matter. You should have stopped her before she broke it and summoned the squid.”

“Freak . . .” muttered Horror, slinging his sack on his shoulder and heading for the kitchen. 

Dust shrugged. “We got food and we got out without fighting him or Blue. That was the plan. I don’t know why you’re angry.”

“I’m angry because you could have cost us the raid!” he hissed. “You need to-”

“That’s enough, Killer,” said Nightmare, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’s right, everything turned out fine in the end. Besides, he learned from his mistake, right Dust?”

“Yeah. I’ll be sure to pickpocket her next time,” he said, winking at him from under his hood.

Killer huffed. “Whatever. But next raid, I call dibs on keeping an eye on the shopkeeper.”

“So long as you don’t dust her like last time,” Nightmare said sternly. There was no need to waste that little morsel of fear.

But Killer just grinned at him cheekily. “Eh, no promises.”

He smirked and gave him a hard, but harmless shove. “Then go make yourself useful and help Horror unpack the supplies.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, stomping off. 

“You too, Cross,” said Nightmare. 

“Why meeeeee . . .” he groaned, throwing an arm over his sockets and sliding down the couch cushion. 

Meanwhile, Dust walked over with his sack and stooped to grab the one Cross left on the floor. Swinging it over his shoulder, he started to head for the kitchen. Cross lifted his arm and looked. He saw his sack being carried away and frantically jumped up, his legs now miraculously working again.

“Hey, that’s mine, give it back!” he yelled, sprinting toward Dust.

Nightmare chuckled as he watched the two disappear behind the door. 

Despite Cross and Killer’s attitude, he sensed they were in a good mood after the raid, even if there wasn’t any fighting. Typicallythey tried to avoid combat with the Star Sanses during “errand runs” so as not to damage the food. Which was much easier to do now that Dream wasn’t able to snitch on them. In fact, Ink and Blue rarely showed up when they wreaked havoc these past few weeks. It probably helped that they only went out at night while Dream was asleep. 

But Nightmare didn’t mind skipping out on the frivolous battle. The surplus of negative emotions from the unfortunate customers and staff did more to rejuvenate his magic than a week’s worth of paperwork. He didn’t need to feed on negative energy to survive, but the power boost it gave him always improved his mood. And after being stuck at his desk all day, getting out and spreading a little chaos really helped him unwind.

He stretched his arms and moved over to the couch, planning to sit and wait for the boys to finish putting the food away. With the kitchen freshly stocked and his paperwork done, Nightmare could finally take some time to relax. Maybe he’d watch something or play a card game with them. It had been a while since he’d done the latter. He sat down, debating his options, when he suddenly heard something crumpling underneath him.

“What in the-” Nightmare mumbled, jolting back up.

It was just what it sounded like- a piece of slightly creased paper. Nightmare picked it up and held it loosely as he glanced at it. From the colorful scribbles across the page, he could tell this was one of his brother’s childish drawings. Nightmare rolled his eyelight at his brother’s messy habit and was about to toss the drawing to the side when something caught his attention.

He lifted it higher to examine it more closely. It was a bit smudged, but he could make out two figures standing side by side on a hill under what looked like the Tree of Feelings. The yellow stick figure was obviously supposed to be his happy-go-lucky brother, but when he looked at the other skeleton colored with purple, he realised that it was . . . 

̶P̶u̶r̶p̶l̶e̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶o̶l̶d̶ ̶e̶y̶e̶l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶s̶

̶P̶u̶r̶p̶l̶e̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶o̶l̶d̶ ̶c̶l̶o̶t̶h̶e̶s̶

̶P̶u̶r̶p̶l̶e̶ ̶j̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ **̶h̶i̶m̶**

Nightmare dropped the drawing as if it burnt him. He stood still for a few hazy, long seconds, the violet color filling his vision, before he violently shook himself out of it. 

He . . . he was being ridiculous. 

It was just a drawing. There was no need to be so dramatic about it. But as he eyed the backside of the paper, he found himself hesitating to pick it up. To look at the image he wished he could rip from his mind’s eye.

He was very tempted to do just _that_ to the picture on the floor.

But he restrained himself from carrying out the immature impulse. Instead, he swiped it up with a tentacle, careful not to add any more creases, and teleported to Dream’s room. Since popping in without warning had ended in his brother knocking a cup of glue on the floor, Nightmare reappeared just outside his door. He camly knocked on it and cleared his throat.

“Dream, it’s me. I’m coming in,” he announced, reaching for the lock.

His hand froze midair when he saw it was already _open._

“Dream? Are you in here?” he asked, stepping swiftly inside. But as he suspected, he didn’t see or sense his brother anywhere in the messy room. 

Nightmare’s cyan eyelight constricted as his tentacles writhed behind him.

 _Of course._ He had a feeling this would happen. He never should have left Dream alone in the first place, but he didn’t have a choice. Putting the raid off any longer would have resulted in a scanty pantry, which was a hang up of Horror’s. And now his brother has wandered off somewhere and is probably getting into all sorts of trouble. 

Well, whatever trouble Dream is in now, it’s nothing compared to the trouble he’ll be in when he gets _his hands on him._

Dropping the forgotten drawing to the floor, Nightmare dipped into shadow and reappeared in the kitchen. All four boys stopped and looked up at him from their various tasks. Although not all of them were doing “tasks” per se. Cross was lounging on the counter and helping himself to his replenished chocolate bar stash. Nightmare narrowed his socket at him, causing the skeleton to stop chewing. 

“Did you forget to lock Dream’s door when you took him to his room?” he asked.

Cross gulped down his chocolate. “Um . . . I was supposed to do that?”

“Yes, you were supposed to do that. Now Dream is missing and could be doing who knows what at the moment!” he growled.

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” said Cross, wincing.

Nightmare pinched his naval ridge and sighed. “Yes, well, I guess it’s my fault for assuming you’d know to do that without me telling you.”

“We’ll help you look for him,” said Killer, setting down the cans of food in his arms.

Cross jumped off the counter and added, “yeah, I’m sure he hasn’t gotten too far.”

Nightmare nodded. “Alright then- Dust and Horror, I want you two to check the top levels, while Killer makes sure Dream isn’t in the dungeon. Cross and I will check the rest of the floors. If any of you find him, bring him to the TV room and we’ll all meet back in there.”

“On it,” said Dust, strolling out of the room with Horror on his heels.

Killer skipped the walking entirely and teleported straight down to their lowest level, leaving Cross and him alone. 

“Where should we start?” the younger skeleton asked eagerly.

“You look in the west wing, and I’ll take the east wing,” he said.

“Sure thing,” Cross saluted, racing out the door.

Nightmare teleported into the hall and began his own search. He looked inside their bedrooms, even his own, just in case his brother went snooping in there and found things he shouldn’t. But he didn’t see any sign of Dream. He even checked the training and storage rooms, but aside from the weapons and furniture housed in them, they were empty too. And the more empty rooms he found, the more he felt his unease grow.

It was one thing not to find Dream hiding under a bed or behind a door, and it was another thing entirely to not feel his presence anywhere. Even if Dream wasn’t experiencing strong negative emotions, if Nightmare was close enough, he could detect the more subtle negativity that all beings radiate subconsciously. But he couldn’t sense Dream _at all_ , which was as confusing as it was disturbing. After all, it wasn’t like his brother had left the hideout or something.

. . . 

Right? 

He’d made it perfectly clear to Dream that he wasn’t to go outside alone. And while he usually obeyed rules, his brother had a way of stretching them when he wanted to. Nightmare couldn’t imagine why or how he could venture outside (seeing how all exits were kept locked), but it would explain the lack of any trace of him. Nightmare had to know for sure, so he concentrated his magic on the aura outside.

His breathing hitched as he felt an immediate wave of negative emotions. _Fear_. _Sorrow_. _Loneliness_. All emotions that could only come from one in his empty domain. Nightmare’s soul hummed so loudly it was deafening, but he forced his panic down with an unsteady breath. With the blink of an eyesocket, he was standing in the cool, swaying grass and sweeping his eye light across the castle grounds.

When Nightmare couldn’t find him, he focused on Dream’s emotions again. They were stronger now that he was outside, but still much too faint. His brother must have wandered pretty far away. In any other situation, he wouldn’t be worried. Being outside was as natural to Dream as breathing. But this foggy forest was easy to get lost in and from the distress his brother gave off, Nightmare knew something was **wrong.**

His tentacles sharpened on instinct as he slipped into the shadows. Thankfully he had energy to spare from their errand earlier, allowing him to take shortcuts every ten yards or so as he worked his way toward Dream. After one teleport too many, Nightmare emerged and sensed that Dream was close. As in, _a-foot-away_ close. He glanced around, but all he saw were the dark trees surrounding him.

Wait . . . 

The trees!

Nightmare gazed up and peered between the winding branches above. He remembered how his brother would climb up their Tree whenever he was upset, and was certain that he’d find Dream perched in one of these. Sure enough, Nightmare spied the bright yellow cape hanging against the black bark within mere seconds.

He ignored how utterly _relieved_ he felt at the sight and sternly yelled, “Dream! Get down here right now!”

Instead of obeying him, Dream pulled his cape out of his line of sight- as if trying to hide from him. From the sudden increase of fear Nightmare felt in Dream, he knew why. He cursed inwardly at his heated mistake and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Dream, I know you’re there. I saw you. Come down now,” he said in a level, but strained tone. 

When his brother didn’t move, he lost his patience and shouted, “if you don’t start climbing in the next three seconds, I’m coming up there and grabbing you myself!”

Again, Nightmare felt Dream’s fear shudder through him. Hopefully that meant his threat had worked. But as he continued to stare up at him, his brother continued to stay as still as before. Nightmare stepped forward and grabbed the lowest branch with his tentacles.

“Alright, we’ll do this the hard way, then,” he said, and started to scale the tree.

Nightmare hadn’t climbed one of these in centuries, but it wasn’t something he could ever truly forget. And with his extra set of limbs, he quickly reached the branch Dream was on. Pulling himself up, he looked over to see Dream huddled against the trunk, his cape hugging his tiny frame. The golden eyelights quivered at him from their puffy sockets. Nightmare approached his brother cautiously, not wanting him to panic and accidentally fall.

“Dream,” he started calmly, studying his brother for injuries, “I -”

“I’m- I’m Sorry-y-y! P-please don’t be- b-be mad at me-me-e-e . . .” Dream skaily gasped, like he had just finished sobbing.

“You should be. I leave you alone for one hour, and _this_ is what you do?” Nightmare said a little too harshly, causing Dream to flinch. “Care to explain why you went outside without my permission?”

Dream looked away and sniffled, “I- I’m-m, I’m s-sorry. Y-you didn’t come back, so I- I tried to find you. B-but I got lost and- and I climbed up h-here to find the wa-a-ay out. But I- I c-couldn’t find it . . .”

Nightmare exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Dream was just frightened because he got lost after stupidly walking into this forest to look for them, and not because he’d hurt himself somehow. Again, Nightmare felt relieved, and again, he ignored the feeling. 

But before he could get another word in edgewise, Dream beat him to it.

“I-I couldn’t f-find you, or-r Crossy, or Dus- Dusty- I- I couldn’t f-find anyone!” he cried, burying his face in his trembling fists. “I- I c-couldn’t d-do it. I’ll n-never- never find my- my brother . . .”

“Nonesenese, I’m sure you’ll find him someday,” he said hastily, sensing his brother was close to breaking down.

“B-b-but I ne-need to f-find Ni- Nighty _now!”_ Dream bawled, fresh tears leaking past his gloves and down his face.

Nightmare rubbed his face in annoyance. Not because Dream was crying, but because he was feeling that strangely strong tug on his soul _again_. Seriously, what was causing it? Was he becoming sick? It probably had something to do with Sci. He was going to strangle that scientist, but first, he had to deal with his hysterical brother. 

Nightmare sighed and slowly seated himself beside Dream. He didn’t _want_ to comfort him. But he also didn’t want to bring Dream back and have him whine and cry about “Nighty” in front of the boys. Sure, they’d told him that they often saw Dream cry when _he_ was brought up, but Nightmare disregarded that fact and curled a tentacle around his shaking brother. 

“Shhh, Dream, it’s okay,” Nightmare said quietly. “I know you . . . miss your brother, but there’s no need to get upset. Everything is alright. You’re doing fine with us here, and I’m certain that wherever that your brother is, he’s fine as well.”

Dream just continued crying. Nightmare stayed silently as his brother let it all out and rubbed his shoulder and back soothingly. Within a minute or two his sobbing devolved into watery sniveling. After another moment, Dream caught his breath and peeked up at him with wobbling eyelights.

“Y-you real- really thi-ink so-o-o? N-nighty is o-oka-ay?” he croaked.

Nightmare nodded. “Of course. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, it’ll take more than a couple villagers to scare him, right?” 

Just as he hoped, Dream smiled at him, albeit weakly. “R-right!”

“And if he isn’t afraid, then you don’t have to be afraid either. Do you think you can do that? Can you be brave for your brother?” he asked.

“I- I’ll t-try,” Dream stammered, scrubbing his cheeks. “B-but I’m not- not as brave a-as Night-ty. H-he-e isn’t s-scared of any-anything.”

“Oh really? Nothing at all?” he said with an amused smile.

“Re-really!” his brother insisted seriously. “T-there was one t-time, I- I was playing in the river- I was really hot and I- I wanted to cool off and I was swimming- but I forgot to be careful and I got stuck in the water. It was so strong I couldn't swim and- and I was so scared. B-but Nighty wasn’t scared. He was really brave a-and he saved me!”

Nightmare stared hazily into the fog as the incident Dream was referring to replayed in his mind. 

It was one of his most vivid memories- as vivid as the event of his corruption. He could still hear Dream’s fearful, garbled cries as the current tossed him around mercilessly, nearly drowning him. If his brother hadn’t left his cape on the river bank for Nightmare to pull him out with, he didn’t know what he would have done. 

He could count on his phalanges the number of times he’d felt such overwhelming fear, and that time was one of them. The calmness he had portrayed was just to comfort Dream. In reality, he was shaking almost as badly as bone-soaked brother. Never before had he come so close to losing his twin- it was like losing his whole world. Nightmare vowed he would _never_ come that close to losing him again.

And then he did.

His whole world, completely gone in a snap of his fingers.

And for over 500 years, his brother remained lost.

But now . . .

Nightmare gazed down at the child sitting beside him. At the cape draped across his back. At the brightly colored outfit he wore. At the large, golden eyelights staring so innocently at him without a hint of judgment. This small skeleton didn’t just look and act like the Dream he remembered from long, long ago. He literally _was_ that Dream. 

The Dream that he’d lost.

And every morning since the “potion incident”, Nightmare woke up expecting this Dream to be gone again. To be back to his older, stubborn self. To be the twin that wants nothing to do with him except to “cure” him of his magic. But every morning, he walked into breakfast to see his small, childish little brother sitting hungrily at the table. 

He was so tired of repeating this cycle. So tired of being paranoid all the time.

Maybe . . . 

Maybe he should take this second chance fate had given him?

It had been at least a month now since Dream’s transformation. Perhaps Sci was right. Perhaps the potion really was _permanent._ Nightmare wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, he’s had more headaches these past weeks alone than he’s had all _year_. But then again, not _everything_ about this situation has sucked. 

Maybe . . . just maybe . . . he should take advantage of the hand he was dealt. Even if it was just going to be taken from him in the end, he could at least enjoy having Dream like this while it lasted. That sounded better than going through all this trouble to avoid him. Somewhere inside his corrupted soul, something urging him to seize this one chance he had, before he lost his brother **again**.

Nightmare ignored the urge, of course. 

But as he smiled down at Dream, it was much . . . _warmer_ than his usual smile.

“You’re right. Your brother does sound brave,” he said. 

Dream beamed proudly, “y-yeah, he’s the bravest!” 

Nightmare chuckled. “Yes, well, as much as I enjoy listening to you talk about your brother, I think we should head back inside now, don’t you?” he asked, sensing Dream’s negative emotions had considerably dulled.

“Mmhmm,” Dream nodded.

Right as Nightmare was about to speak again, his brother turned and hugged him as far as his small little arms could reach. 

“Thank you for finding me,” he said, squeezing him slightly.

“Y-yes, well . . .” he sputtered, unsure if he should hug back or not. 

He compromised with a light pet on the head and after coughing, he said more firmly, “of course I’d find you. It’s my job to look after everyone, and that includes you.” 

Then titling Dream’s head to look up, Nightmare added, “But don’t think you’re not in trouble still. You broke a rule and you have to face consequences for your actions. So when we get back, you have to stay alone in your room for one hour. Understand?”

“Yes, I- I understand,” said Dream, hiding his face in his hoodie. “I’m really sorry, Night.”

He winced at the all-too-familiar nickname. “Just call me Midnight, okay?” 

“Oh, okay. I’m really, _really_ sorry, Midnight,” he repeated, pulling away and staring up at him with sad, wide eyelights.

“I know. You won’t do it again, now will you?” 

“Nu uh! Never!”

“Good. Then let’s go home.”

“Yeah, lets go,” Dream said, finally letting go and eagerly squirming off the branch.

Nightmare’s worry spiked as he watched his brother stand precariously on the limb below. 

“Here, I’ll help you get down,” he said and automatically reached for him.

“No, I can do it!” Dream argued, leaning away from his grasp. “I can-”

He abruptly stopped. He had leaned _too far_ back, losing his balance, and slipped off the branch before Nightmare had time to react. Dream shrieked and desperately tried to grab onto something. But he couldn’t get a grip and continued to fall.

And fall

_And fall_

_A N D F A L L_

“NO!” Nightmare screamed, shooting all four tentacles after his plummeting brother.

In an instant, the blur of tendrils caught the child, winding and wrapping around him until only his head was visible. With his brother now safely secure, Nightmare lifted him back up and held him out at arms length. He withdrew three of the tentacles, keeping only one twisted under Dream’s arms.

“Are you alright?” he asked thinly, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

“Yeah, I’m okay!” Dream said, grinning much too widely for someone who almost fell to their death. “Let’s do it again!”

“Absolutely not!” Nightmare snapped. His soul was _still_ humming a million miles a minute. 

“But it was fun,” he pouted, hugging his tentacle. “Please? I want you to catch me again!” 

He arched his brow. “What if I can’t catch you this time?”

“Sure you can! Your super cool tent-ackles are really fast. I know you’ll catch me!” said Dream with complete and total confidence.

Nightmare rolled his eyelight at his brother’s stupidly blind trust in him. 

“It’s _tentacles_ ,” he corrected him, then smirked. “Tell you what. I can do something else instead.”

Dream titled his head to the side. “Do what?”

“This,” he answered, pushing himself off the limb.

Dream squealed as they both dropped through the branches. A few feet before they hit the ground, Nightmare directed his tentacles with perfect precision into the earth, breaking their free fall. He then lowered them safely the rest of the way. Once his feet touched the grass, they all returned to his back, except for the one still tightly wound around Dream.

“That was so cool!” Dream giggled, his eyelights shining. 

Nightmare shook his head at his brother’s enthusiasm. He probably shouldn’t have encouraged Dream’s reckless behavior by doing that, but it was the quickest way down the tree. The fact that it also made Dream happy had nothing to do with his decision.

“Can we do it again?” he asked

“Maybe another time, Dream. Right now, we need to get back,” said Nightmare, holding his brother just a _little_ bit closer as he activated his magic to teleport. “Hold on tight.”

In a swirl of black, they emerged out of the dark, foggy forest and into the warm, familiar TV room. 

“Rory!” Dream gasped, waving excitedly at the skeleton on the couch.

“What are you doing here?” asked Midnight as he walked toward him. “And where is Dust?” 

Rory stood up and shrugged. “With the others . . . . Cross found a window open . . . thought Dream went outside. They went looking . . . I stayed . . . just in case . . . this happened.”

Midnight sighed. “Alright. Stay in here and watch him for me while I’ll go get them.”

The tentacle then gently set him on the floor and slipped off of him. Dream turned around but when he looked, Midnight had already disappeared. He looked back at Rory and ran into the skeleton, wrapping his arms as best he could around him. His feet left the ground again as he was picked up, and he eagerly snuggled into the soft fur that tickled his face.

“Please don’t run away . . . okay little chef?” said Rory.

Dream headbutted his jaw affectionately. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Thank you . . .” the older skeleton said, hugging him closer.

Dream sighed, closing his sockets and relaxing in Rory’s hold. After a few moments, he heard the buzzing noise of magic behind him. Dream raised his head and looked. It was Midnight, and he had Crossy and Dusty and Kiki with him too. Now they were all back home again Dream grinned and waved at them. 

Crossy saw and ran over to him. “Dream? Are you okay buddy?” he asked

“Yep! I’m okay. See?” Dream said, holding his arms out.

Crossy grabbed him from Rory and hugged him so tightly that Dream couldn’t breathe for a second. 

“Don’t ever do that to us again!” he shouted.

“Yeah, you made us waste our time looking everywhere for you, you little twerp,” Kiki said angrily. “What were you thinking, huh? Trying to prove that you're a big kid or something?”

Dream frowned and picked at the white hairs on Crossy’s jacket. “I’m sorry Kiki. You guys didn’t come back and I was scared you got hurt. I tried to find you. But I- I got lost . . .”

“Good thing Midnight found you then. Right Killer?” said Crossy.

Kiki huffed, “I guess so. Just don’t pull that stunt again. Got it squirt?”

“Okay, Kiki,” he smiled, and Kiki smiled back.

“So, do you wanna finish that game of ‘Go Fish’ now?” Crossy suggested.

Dream was about to excitedly say yes, but he stopped and looked over at Midnight. 

“Can I, Midnight? Pleaseee?” he asked, unsure if he had to have his punishment now or not.

The goopy skeleton nodded. “Go ahead Dream. We’ll worry about the timeout later.”

“Really? Thank you Midnight!” Dream cheered, oblivious to the confused expressions on everyone elses face.

“Oh! And we also brought home some Nicecream. Have you ever had Nicecream before?” Crossy asked.

When Dream shook his head, he added, “It’s very sweet and cold. I’m sure you’ll like it! And there’s different flavors too. Which one do you wanna try? We got chocolate, vanilla, uh . . . cotton candy, and strawberry-”

“Strawberry!” Dream decided, going with the only flavor he knew besides chocolate.

Crossy laughed. “Strawberry it is then.”

“I’ll get them . . .” Rory said. He handed Kiki all the cards. “You deal . . .” 

Kiki got down on the floor and started to do that shuffling thing again. “I’d like to see you try and cheat now, Cross.”

“Hey! I wasn’t cheating! I just had a lucky streaky going,” Crossy said, sitting in front of Kiki and placing Dream beside him.

Kiki smirked. “Yeah well, your luck is about to run out.”

Dream situated himself comfortably on his knees and looked over at two skeletons still standing.

“Are you going to play?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Dust, sitting down on the other side of Crossy. 

Dream looked hopefully at Midnight, and to his delight, the dark skeleton shrugged and sighed, “I suppose so.”

“Yay! Come sit with me,” he said, excitedly patting the rug.

Midnight walked over to him and sat on the floor next him. Dream grinned and was about to pick up his cards when he saw one of the tentacles floating near him. Very sneakily, he reached out and grabbed it, giggling as he hugged his prize to his chest. Dream didn’t know why, but the tentacle things made him feel really safe- like nothing could ever hurt him.

“I don’t believe that’s yours,” said Midnight. He sounded annoyed, but Dream could see the small smile on his face.

“Yes it is! It’s my squishy now,” he said playfully, hugging the tentacle tighter in case he tried to take it back.

Crossy snorted. “Pfft- _squishy_.”

“Not a word, Cross,” Midnight said, frowning down at his cards.

Dream was worried for a moment that he made him mad (although, it wasn’t really his fault ‘tentacles’ was hard to say). But when Midnight didn’t yell at him or pull his tentacle away, he smiled and nuzzled it. The squishy hugged him back, coiling the tip of it around his arm. Dream giggled again and looked up at the skeletons around him.

He wasn’t lost anymore. He was back home and playing with all of his friends again, even Midnight. The cold feeling was gone. Now all he felt was happy and warm inside. Dream still missed his other home, and his tree, and his brother- but Midnight was right. Everything was okay. His new friends would keep him safe until he found his brother. And while he waited, Dream would be the bravest there ever was!

For Nighty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Le gasp* What's this? Nightmare is gonna finally stopping being such a butt and start opening up more to his brother? _Impossible!_
> 
> But on a more serious note, I wonder if any of you saw this coming? I know some of my readers have picked up on the fact that the past few chapters, Dream has slowly but surely gotten the four boys to warm up to him. But what about his own brother? Well, seems poor Nightmare can't escape his brother's affection either. But he did just barely dodge a bullet there with the nickname lol. 
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter should be pretty fun. The gang are going to **h-h-ave a vi-visitor-r-r-r**
> 
> Feel free to check out my [tumblr](https://calcium-cat.tumblr.com/) where I post OSD related art along with other Undertale content!
> 
> Bonus picture:
> 
> (also just in case you're wondering why no one is teasing Killer over his nickname, it's because he has blackmail material and he's not afraid to use it.)


End file.
